With longing, I wept for her — and I waited;
But my dreams of love would never come true,
Only pieces of shattered hope and sorrow unabated.
Tag: Feelings
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In the stillness of the quiet hours, a transcendent peace falls upon her.
Her heart was once coldly broken, but now she flourishes in the warmth of healing.
To breathe, she thought she needed him and wept at the thought of never seeing him again,
But her pain turned out to be heaven’s blessing, because she reclaimed her true essence,
and in her discovery, she found that she was exceedingly strong and deeply loving.
She also ascertained, that truly loving herself was the key to being strengthened;
Beautifully, she closes her eyes in her own embrace — the light of her spirit
Wonderfully exuding through the ethereal radiance of her face.
She is gorgeous in her nakedness with an aura that could never be erased.
To have her love, is to have a gift that could never be replaced;
She is light. She is loved. She is safe. Always. -
Luther Vandross & Gregory Hines – There’s Nothing Better Than Love
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Black roses grow in the space of my heart that was left hollow;
They are rooted in the rich soil of shattered love
And showered daily with a perpetual drizzle of sorrow. -
The quiet beauty of intimacy.
The ineffable stillness of love. -
Her experienced fingers excite the place where the feeling of pleasure still lingers. The privacy of darkness conceals the extent of her wetness. She is passionate, and in the comfort of her bedroom she can moan as loud as she wants and spread her legs wide in a showing of her sexual forwardness; she wants to have more orgasms, not less — so she spanks herself, fantasizing about the transcendence of pleasurable roughness. She is so wet. Her ass begs for the use of her vibrating dildo, so she gets up and retrieves it, returning to her bed then deciding to ride her pillow. The stimulation of her clit feels so fucking good; she moans as she lightly pinches her nipples. Still, her ass can’t be ignored, so she turns to the side with her pillow between her legs as her ass is thoroughly pleased from the dildo’s vibrating head; recalling what she said to a past lover in an erotic whisper, to herself she says, I’m your whore, make me beg. She screams, squirting on her pillow and all over her bed.
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Through the unbridled giving of pleasure,
he passionately expresses his love for her
and says three words in a beautiful whisper. -
She is a flower who cried the day they threw her away,
but loving hands reached for her and placed her in water,
and nourished her, and deeply cared for her.
Her petals were bruised because she was misused,
and even with scars on her stem, she flourished
and found healing — under soft light, her beauty is revealing
of something delicate, transcendent, and heaven sent;
Joyous tears fall on her petals, and radiantly she blooms forever.
She is beautiful in the spring, fall, summer, and winter. -
He calls her, and she walks closer to the familiar
euphoria of riding the full length of his measure.
She is already wet, contemplating his tongue on her,
with the penetration of his fingers as she moans and writhes in pleasure.
She wants to look at him as she tastes him and be spanked in doggy after.
Where she is tight, she wants him to slowly slide inside her
as she releases loudly, using her vibrator, drenched in wetness
because of his thickness and the words of his erotic whispers.
Intimate Compositions 