My love, listen to me carefully: you are the ascension of joy within me. You are the discovery of immense beauty. Search my heart thoroughly, and find the secret compartments that I keep my precious memories; you will discover that you are there in my embrace eternally at the exact moment when I first caressed your face and kissed you passionately. Stare into your mirror, and see through my eyes what I see — and if tears should fall, know that they are expressions of love from the deep well of my soul. In the comfort of your arms I know that I am truly loved and not alone. Wherever we are together I know that I am home; sweetheart, I know that I am home. For so long I thought that I would forever be alone. I was once shattered, but you made me whole. I am yours completely, search the depths of me, leave nothing unknown. Now, I give you my eternal vow; to love you forever as fervently as I do now. My spirit is drawn to you like the moon’s gravitational pull on the vast oceans. I rise to kiss you, and spiraling waterfalls brush against my face. The physical intimacy of us begins with a gentle touch culminating in a transcendent rush. After, we hold each other, speaking with whispers then fall asleep together in an indescribable hush.
Category: Poetry
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I am forever yours in sickness and health, in poverty and wealth, through the fires of hell and where the angels with golden crowns dwell. I am yours without transaction or inhibition. I am yours without prodding or convincing; it is gladly with all my heart to love you my decision. I am yours unconditionally and without uncertainty. Cast your gaze upon me, kiss me, and tell me that you love me with tears of sincerity. Let us reaffirm our vows in candlelight silently after the intensity of unadulterated intimacy. I please you with everything within me willingly. My mouth craves the taste of your want. I am infused with the passion of your desire. Your perfume invigorates me, and I am taken away with the wonder of your femininity. The totality of you I love, from crown to feet — everything above and underneath; from the limitless heavens and to the undiscovered depths of the sea. There are many beautiful women under the heavens, but it is only you that I truly see. I belong to you, and you belong to me. Forsaking all others we have become one flesh in life and in death. My breath is your breath, and your breath is my breath. Embrace me in loving nakedness, the suppleness of your beautiful breasts against my chest, let our hearts communicate through joyous rhythm and forever connect.
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No more intimacy without passion. No more monotonous positions. No more anticipation that’s not exciting. No more sex without achieving orgasm. No more five to ten minute sessions. No more apprehension of exploration. No more silence to spare potentially hurt feelings. No more hesitation. No more “please take care of your personal hygiene” conversations. No more having to fake it and making loud noises deception. No more wanting to try something new rejections. No more uncomfortable sexual dialogue deflections. No more indecision. No more wearing flats with an evening gown situations. No more nonsensical stipulations. No more “friends” coming over and drinking the expensive bottles of wine set-aside for special occasions. No more, “baby, I drank too much” embarrassment in public locations. No more time and time again, me having to reiterate the responsibilities and expectations set for a nearly middle-aged woman. No more excessive spending. No more “heels hurt my feet” and not seeing the sexiness of polished toes in mules and stilettos in size seven. No more outside influences affecting my relationship. No more bullshit. No more calling me every five minutes in a state of paranoia when I’m out of town on business. No more compromising. No more resentment. No more attempted mind fucking. No more trivial and tiring arguing. No more weeks of prolonged strife for no apparent reason. No more second guessing and wondering. No more talking for hours thinking the situation has been resolved and then two days later it comes back again. No more “I love you so much” not knowing the meaning. No more anything; I’m leaving.
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She is a mystery in perpetuity. A whisper in winter that resurrects flowers from their long slumber. In her left hand she holds lightning, in her right she holds thunder. She was conceived with eyes of fire in the company of angels standing beside her. She is the beauty of her mother and the strength of her father; a creation of wonder. She is the softness of silk and the resilience of a tiger. To hold her is to experience rapture and to discover a woman’s true nature. To truly love her and to receive her love is healing undiscovered. In heaven’s river flow the joyous tears that fall from her. Her hair flows over like several willows weeping together.
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With every deceit finally revealed I was torn apart at the seams, for I truly thought I had found undying love, but nothing is as it seems; an unending nightmare was cloaked as a beautiful dream skillfully presented to me with loving oratory, stunning beauty, Chanel Gardénia Parfum and diamond earrings that were exceptionally sexy — I remember gracefully she sat next to me in a Black Whisper Ruffle V Neck Dress complimented by black ankle strap pumps that definitely impress. Her clothing complimented the feminine fullness of her breasts — freshly cut mint leaves was the sweetness of her breath. Her soft touch sensually comforted me; the passion of her kiss took away my breath. I was eager to know what would come next taken away with the heightened lust of passionate kisses on the neck. I lost myself, and because of appetency, in tears of torment and in a nightmare I was left perpetually. Idiotically whispering to myself incessantly, “She never loved me; she never loved me.”
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Predestined to be a blessing with mighty wings you descended from heaven healing love transcending the tears of the sorrowful that are never ending and the tormented that dream of peace in their sleeping before awakening to more weeping holding onto the most precious memories for safe keeping hoping to find an angel and never again be forsaken
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You are a beautiful verse intricately laced through several chapters of the book of sensual and loving whispers, wrapped in an enigma, set down by gentle winds upon a peaceful lavender river where butterflies frolic and fly over in the spring and summer and where willow trees weep under beautiful snowfall in the winter.
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With sweet whispers the darkness beckons me, methodically appealing to the deep sorrow of my tragedy. It says, I can take away the pain if you allow me. I embrace the bitter taste of misery to deaden the unforgiving sting of its potency. I now live in my own, but I was born of my mother’s agony. Resentment is the blood of my family, so I do not forgive easily. Through vengeful eyes I see my enemies. I dream no more of love — my nightmare resumes when I awaken; sitting on the edge of my bed I gaze aimlessly at nothing, and I am reminded that I am a man forsaken. Oh, heavenly father, look at what torment has taken. It seeks to utterly decimate me and leave me irreparably broken. I have become an apostate of love’s religion. In my state of affliction I have come to questions my past decisions. The man in the mirror swears at me under his breath; I stare at him for several minutes contemplating the depth of his sentiment. I scream like a madman within four walls to purge at least a small portion of the pain. Tiring myself out, I sit drenched in perspiration with tempered melancholy, and I am tranquil again.
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Dark immersion tires me and wears on my will, still, something pulls me up to the surface slowly — I open my eyes releasing my last cries, I am solemn, and I am still.
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A hummingbird kisses a blue orchid. Rose petals dry the tears of the heartbroken. The scent of rain is a beautiful prelude to love-making. A once wounded bird flies again, spreading healed wings that were broken. A goddess rises from her slumber immersed in immaculate beauty. The gods whisper among themselves with tones of feral envy. A gorgeous grey haired woman dances under the soft glow of twilight slowly. In a French bed with embroidered canopy, lovers make moans of unlimited ecstasy. The once desolate find love and tightly hold on to it. There is a wondrous peace in the place that an Angel once slept. A field of flowers grow in the place that my mother once wept. The perfumed scent of white gardenias is the sweetness of an Angel’s breath. From her hair, a woman removes several pins and a glorious waterfall flows again. On an antique square white tufted ottoman, with crossed legs, she moisturizes her skin, and it is incredibly feminine. She thinks about finding love again, and her heart is comforted. A pregnant moon gives the ocean the fullness of her illumination — the dark waters accept her light and rise to meet her for the occasion.
Intimate Compositions 