I live, because you love me,
and I am carried in your heart—
but if you should ever stop loving me,
Kiss me passionately one last time in my finality—
and lie to me beautifully,
before I depart.
-
-
Darkness is subtle in its caress.
The soft light slowly exposes her,
Like a sculpture in alluring undress;
It reveals the feminine contours of her feet
and the sensual enchantment of her breasts.
She breathes in eroticism
And exhales euphoria with every breath.
It is an ethereal experience
To discover the levels of her depths.
The well of love in her heart is full;
Her erotic soul is out of control
And absolutely beautiful. -
The darkness conceals,
hiding pain behind its veil—
and stifling the anguished screams.
-
The Jacksons – 2300 Jackson Street
-
The wreckage of my soul lies scattered amidst the roses in the cold.
I hope for warmth and again to be made whole.
The tall stems hide me, and the morning dew rolls
off of red and burgundy petals, as if the roses weep for me;
In my shattered sate, I hope for an angel to find me
and love me with everything within her unconditionally.
I am broken but not lifeless; I am desolate but not hopeless—
I have seen many things and have dreamed many dreams;
Restless ghosts walk around me and rouse me from my sleep
to tell me of faded past loves and troubled waters deep.
Still amidst the roses I weep
Still amidst the roses I weep
I hope to see the sun again, but until then
I hide scattered among the roses tall stems;
They whisper sweet words to me and give me water in their nurturing.
The fragrance of them sooth my agony, and I sleep on the softness of fallen petals;
Oh, heaven restore me to the whole man I used to be.
I lie amidst the roses in the shade of their petals listlessly,
Waiting for the day of redemption that I may never see.
Once, I loved fearlessly, but love was never returned to me;
Under colors of red, white, pink, yellow and burgundy, I sleep.
Still amidst the roses I weep
Still amidst the roses I weep
The restless ghosts still come to me and tell me of their anguish;
They tell me of love betrayed and of dreams unaccomplished.
I am dismayed in my tormented state — but still hear their passionate cries.
Mother, if you can hear me, look upon your son in his travail,
And give me of your strength so I can again deeply inhale.
I am in agony and I am broken in my pain—
I cry incessantly, as rose petals fall on me softly;
Daily, they grow taller and flourish more beautifully.
I have survived thus far, because beauty is my company.
I dwell here, where the ants crawl, and the creatures of the night creep.
Still amidst the roses I weep
Still amidst the roses I weep -
There would not be such cruel a fate,
If I were to passionately kiss you for the last time
And never again behold your face. -
Between euphoric breaths,
she confessed that she loved him;
not holding back, she gave him her everything,
and in her moaning, she signaled her joy
and the fulfillment of her longing—
touching his soul, and evoking emotions
that long stirred within the depths of him.
It is then that he said to her, I want no one else;
forever you are my woman.
Without inhibition, she rode him
uncovering the breadth of her eroticism—
she leaned in and kissed him,
whispering to him, how much she had missed him.
And after the last letter, she released the passion of her fire
and kept going as he whispered, faster.
His drive took him over the edge
when she passionately said, mi amor, deeper—
he closed his eyes when she seductively
Started sucking his fingers;
and in the height of his release,
he told her, that he was more than a lover
but that he was in love with her. -
We were both broken
but took pieces of each other
and nurtured them
to find our healing;
we kissed each other
in the throes of our weeping,
and we held each other
in the darkness of our sleeping.
To shield each other from
the coldness of this cruel world,
we held each other’s hearts
in warmth for safe keeping—
finding new levels of love for each other
in the utterances of our whispering
and in the transcendent
intimacy of our bonding. -
In her surrender, she found unparalleled pleasure.
The words that are said in the most intense moments
are conveyed through sensual whispers and are remembered after.
The fervor of her drive, is like an erotic book with unending chapters;
the usual monotonous positions are left behind in their euphoric discovery
as they both transcend to higher heights of intimacy and ecstasy.
The expressions of her eroticism were the fulfillment of a long held fantasy.
The passion of their interaction could never be duplicated;
every session, is like a salacious entry written secretly in a personal diary—
unique in its exitance, untamed, erotogenic, and fiery.
Her open toe heels, and black silk romper teddy are beautiful simplicity,
yet sexually appealing — highlighting the essence of her femininity.
The importance of foreplay is not missed,
in the sexually stimulating places that he is so enthusiastic to kiss—
She cannot hide her true desires that are revealed in her wetness;
the closing of her eyes, and her sensual sighs, tell him to keep going.
In pleasing her, he is also pleasing himself, in his undying yearning.
Her hips move in a rhythmic circular motion
that cause unselfconscious orgasms and uncontrollable screaming;
In the heat of passion, it is deep inside her that she feels him—
She kisses him again, deeply, to make sure she is not dreaming. -
They say agony purifies
The mind and body,
But the soul withers,
And the aura dies
Where there is unending torment
And pain incessantly.
Intimate Compositions 