peach

i want
you
to split me open
like a peach;
force my sweetness
from the pit.

i am
the fruit
and the tree;
savor me
slowly
with eyes and tongue.

i will
keep giving
and giving
until you
(concerned with choking)
ask me
to stop
(so you can breathe)

only
to catch your breath
and reach for me
again...

missing love

i miss my loving body.

meaning
the way it changes
and rounds
and curves
when i'm regularly loved
touched
held
and ecstatically pleasured.

the ritual

they placed me on the altar...the tea they'd given me dulled my senses, made me sluggish and weary.

i snapped awake when i saw the knife hovering above my head, then my heart...

i begged them to spare me--anything but death. suddenly lucid, i wiggled my naked torso, struggling against the binding on my hands and feet, still begging, don't spill my blood...

an elder woman heard me and stopped the priest's hand. 

her will is strong, she said. if she does not want to die, she must be put on trial.

chant

you don't have to love me
just love my body
need me
like water
like water
drippin' like water

drink me
there is enough to quench any thirst
you've ever had

tease me
please me
please
i won't beg
...much more

gimme
gimme
gimme more
savory kisses 
sweet tongue flicks
turn sentences into stutters
with naughty whispered words

use me
for good or ill

all is fair, here, love

you don't have to love me
don't have to love me
just
need me
savor me
drink me
like water...

control freak

posted over at the bliss project

i am not always
a good girl.

sometimes letting go
means letting you have your way.

…my way.

gimme real cuffs
metal + skin
no frilly satin or plush animal print.
i want the chill of the steel
to compete with the heat in your hands.

no, i don’t mind a scrape or two.
…you’ll kiss them away later

if you must free my hands,
at least give me a few swats for the trouble
…open handed. like you mean it.
make my ass sound like lightning cracking the sky

(crops are so impersonal
and i’m not in it for the welts)

a little sting; a kind caress

rewind
repeat

then…enter. fully.
strong
confident
cooing, coaxing
never insulting, crass.

this isn’t about humiliation.

i want
to engender gratitude
for this manifestation
of my trust.

bring me to blissful exhaustion
and i will use every tool at my disposal
to reward you
anon.

bound

with everything i know,
and everything i've done,
it is still difficult to let go.

i can see free-me standing at the back of my mind,
but i don't know if i want to walk towards her
or run away.

i fear she will swallow my lover whole...
incinerate him somehow.

i cover my mouth with pillows when she arrives,
fearing the neighbors' wrath
(or running into them in the morning...)

i can rein her in by carefully navigating the release;
breathe my way out of
unsightly convulsions and spasms
as needed.

...although i can't help speaking in her (ancient, varied) tongues
or keep the past lives from flashing before my eyes.

she laughs, morphs;
enjoys remembering.

sometimes she brings the water,
expanding me ocean-wide
or turns the bed into a river.
i pray he either doesn't notice
or knows how to swim.

she should not be chained
or relegated to corners.

i'd like to let her run completely wild
unlock all the doors
throw open the windows
leave the gate open...

but i'm afraid.

are you?

the goddess & her consort

this vision will haunt me until i can put it into words.

a blink, the space between an inhale and an exhale...
all are enough to bring it back to me.

but what can words really say?
there are volumes about this already.

no wonder enlightenment
(i.e., reproductive rights to the experience of divine union)
is such big business
there is no other way to know it
except to know it.
biblically.

just the promise of a dream of a taste will have you selling your soul for more.

your adoration is the reason i can translate kundalini's hiss.

i am willing to speak the words
that become the images you create
if you swear loyalty to our union.

we are selfish.
we are indulgent.
we are dangerous.

that is why the west has tried to remove us from memory.

it has not worked.

we remember
we converse.
we build.
we touch.
we create.
we love.

nothing else matters.

shantishantishanti...

~to be continued~

what i get for carrying on a conversation with u...

you travel my soul
godlike

exploring terrain with
fingers
eyes
hands

emboldened by the wisdom of creation.

sensual deprivation

i've missed the rush i get from flirting.

the feeling of being watched that leads to the first greeting...

first level of attraction, light banter...sharing just enough information to determine whether or not to proceed...

feeling out how proficient he is at wordplay, his sense of humor, intelligence.

(wisdom makes me wet)

the stares in the almost-awkward silences,
light touches,
smiles.

becoming acquainted with body language and subtle hints of cologne.

the jolt that comes with an unspoken connection.

...see, it's rare that i find a man truly interesting. my 6th sense often tells me more than i want to know before i even know his name.

even rarer is the definitive tingle between my thighs that tells me this one has something worth keeping--or at least exploring.

my sensuality is my soft spot. electrify my senses, and you can probably have me at least once. intrigue me and it will win you nothing less than a kiss.

the tingle never seems to be caused by the same thing twice.

with one it may be a voice.
with another, our first true eye contact.
his gait.
a well-placed scar.
the movement of his lips as he speaks.
the quiet strength in his hands.
a quick brush of his fingers on some innocently bare skin.

could be anything.
and i haven't been wrong yet.

still, that can be difficult to find on bar stools and in random street encounters.

but every now and then, i get lucky.

ouroboros

it doesn't
hurt
anymore.

but
i'd like to hug you
daily
hear your voice
see your smile...

my words for you
often get caught in my throat
only now they're not made of lemon juice and vinegar
instead it's like
a not-quite-sweet-enough wine or
an unripe slice of peach;
...the flavor of missing you.

our laughter eludes me.
i cannot remember
what your hands were like,
or your mouth.
yet somewhere
deep in the pit of my stomach
i remember
i feel
i know
there was more
to us...

as i blossom,
i seem to need you a little less
but i never seem to
run out of love. 

the love that rained and dripped and spilled
down those steps
in that bed
on that street
along that hallway
by that window

it etched you
into my soul

your cree sings heartsongs
to my chickasaw

we are still
one

but we've replaced the
long nights and
wrenching conversations and
passive aggressive arguments and
unrequited magnetism
with something softer
if not sweeter...

we've given our unity
to the universe
and she's used its strength
to hold up the world a little while longer.

good like summer ice cream cones...

touching,
tempting fate and
hidden secret parts
of each other

you radiate
like sunlight:

touch my hand
and i feel it
all over...

kisses creep across my soul
manifesting as explosions of color
across my eyelids

you snatch my voice away,
then use it to speak to me
so i can understand you better.

you waste nothing--
condense yourself
into fingertips, lips
drip into my veins
with perfect timing.

use your beauty against me.

hold me hostage with memories
so we can make new ones...