In the interim, I look at the man in the mirror and speak to him; he whispers of lost love and unceasing suffering. He speaks of the pain that never ends. He talks about who is more precious than even the most rare diamonds and implores me to never betray the heart of a woman. Maybe I’ll see him again, but until then, I will internalize his sayings in deep contemplation. Before he left, he told me to remember him and he weeps at every inference of the tears that rolled down the face of his beautiful woman after her heart was broken. It was the way she looked at him with tears in her eyes, that so touched him. Through wails of regret, he admitted to me in secrecy that of her love, he is no longer worthy and that he sincerely wants her heart to heal and he desperately wants her to be happy; his whispers are that of a contrite man shattered and decimated in totality from his past iniquities. I try to comfort him with references of beautiful memories, but still, he cries unceasingly. He speaks softly when he speaks of her, reaching as if she is still there; and still, he weeps unceasingly. Through loving whispers, he weeps unceasingly.
Tag: Love
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The space between the anticipation of a passionate kiss creates its own energy that brings healing with the touch of loving lips. The sun shines on them as if acknowledging that true love has given birth again. They are committed to each other until the end. They are lovers. They are friends. The beauty of her feminine aura only the heavenly hosts could describe. She is a mortal, born of a miracle with an ethereal nature that abides. With every kiss they feel even more alive. Her lips are the taste of raw honey and the softness of them, like ten thousand rose petals covering freshly cut fescue in the fall. She brings him a nurturing only a woman could bring. Her breath, the sweet savor of freshly cut mint leaves in lemongrass tea sweetened with raw brown sugar. Her hair, the winding of a mighty river. The contours of her neck are subtly sexy; the curvature of her breasts embody the womanhood of her feminine beauty. Her lover places his hands upon her with gentle lovingness, expressing his feelings to her without words, telling her that he truly loves her without cliché sentiments or meaningless utterances that drown in the seas of unimportance. There is a sense of belonging in them that draw them close to each other. She glows more brightly than usual because unbeknownst to her, there is a life the dwells within her. With illuminated wings, and a halo of seven stars she will deliver. The agony of her labor will be temporary and she will shine even more brightly in the hours close to her maternity. They will be all connected eternally. The energy of a passionate kiss led to the creation of a new life within her, but they will never lose their sensual fire. They will never lose that beautiful anticipation right before an erotic kiss is given. With every touch they reinvent their passion again and again. They have cried together, and immense love is their constant shelter. They have held hands and walked through fire together. They have defeated the potent corrosion of uncertainty and second guessing. He abides in her and she in him. It is truly amazing, the beautiful healing that comes with passionate kissing — the way it can take away the pain and the cares of the world and place love in its proper perspective. If only one could hear the beautiful whispers that are spoken before kissing. The body is relaxed and tingling because it is a familiar euphoric feeling. Kissing leads to licking, and moaning, and erotic screams from deep penetration. They say there are eight wonders, but nothing is akin to the mystery of a woman. Nothing. There are many beautiful things in this world, but a woman’s beauty trumps all of them. To fall into her embrace is to fall into a place of love and nurturing. To touch her face, is to touch the most beautiful thing the creator ever made. To have her love, is to have something invaluable and sacred. To betray her love, is to cast a rare diamond into an ocean where it could never be found again. To think of her only in sexual terms is to be exceedingly foolish in ignoring her intellect and the beauty of her totality. For a man to not take his time and learn the pleasurable reactions of a woman’s body is to risk her dissatisfaction in eroticism and love making. To not acknowledge the length and beauty of her hair is to ignore what the creator has given to her for a covering. There is a subtle sensuality in the beauty of a woman’s feet that is missed regularly. An ankle bracelet and pedicured toes in stiletto mules can drive a man to lose himself in the pleasuring of a woman in any and everyway possible. From the sweetness of an impassioned kiss, the mouth travels lower and lower until it finds the essence of longing that is wondrous wetness — but still, it is the taste and softness of the lips. It is the taste and softness of the lips.
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We used to venture to Café Intermezzo at 3AM for New York Cheesecake and expresso. I would hold you intimately at an inside table with a lit candle or on the patio. I would kiss you and tell you that I love you with the depths of me; sometimes we would change our selection from cheesecake and expressos, to old fashioned donuts and Irish Coffee. We used to sing together in the car on our late night drives on Peachtree. I may have failed, but I tried with all my heart to give you the best of me. Out of the blue, you pop up in my memories; In my mind’s gallery, I screenshot the images of you looking at me lovingly. Still, I hold you in my heart and contemplate your beauty. I wonder who now holds you. I wonder if you are married with a family. I wonder if sometimes you think of me. I wonder if you are happy.
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I had tried for so long to purge your memory from me, but in my attempt, I discovered that you were not only in my memories, but you are a part of me eternally. I say that I no longer love you, loudly, but I caress your face and kiss you in the depths of my spirit quietly. There was a time I told you that I wanted you to be happy, even without me, but now, perhaps selfishly, I want your happiness to be an immersion in me. My desolation takes me to an unforgiving and dark place where the hands of the clock move extremely slowly, mercilessly prolonging my misery. Rescue me, lest I drown in the deep cold waters of despondency. My life is forfeit lest there is love in it; in my tearful plea for love, I am passionate. In my brokenness, I hold myself together from the remnants of love that I draw on entirely too much — and I fear it fades away from me daily. In agony, the soul cannot lie; the truth must be professed. In my confession, I must say, there is an emptiness and a distinct pain that is relentless. Perhaps I will call on heaven’s archangels to come down and illuminate my darkness with celestial light. At night, I walk among the trees and search for her aura in the twilight. One thousand pink long stemmed roses are the beauty and fragrance of my utterances. Love, I wait on you with tears for you to embrace me once again. The length, scent, and texture of her hair alone moved me to emotion. True intimacy expressed in sensual darkness is more precious than diamonds. I hold many emotional letters of love in my heart that are unfinished, hoping that love will find me once again, and that my desolate fate will be rewritten.
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Anita Baker – Whatever It Takes
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I give all of myself, without regret and without fear that when I awake you may not be here. If I should lose you, let the pain in my heart be expelled through sleepless days and nights of heavy ceaseless tears — and in my mourning, let me hold you tightly once again, gently placing within the safety and secrecy of my sincere heart, the last remembered image of your beautiful face and the precious memories that we shared.
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Whispers spoken in heavy breaths
Tell of a sensual aura, a beautiful soul,
And erotic depths. -
The marrow of my soul calls out for loving warmth from the desolate cold. In the sea of sorrow I am unmercifully lashed to and fro. There is no lifeboat; memories of past love is my only prospective rescue. The hypothermia of the cold water slowly sets in, and I am listless — resigned to my fate. In my endless wading, for love’s reemergence I wait, but the moon’s pull causes the tide to rise; I am numb, I am so numb, both outside and inside. My foolish pride I did not cast aside. Why could I not tell her right then and there that if she walked away from me, a part of me would die ? If I must perish from the cold alone, I can at least say that I tried with everything within me to survive, but love is so difficult to find. My perpetual teardrops fall into the deep dark water that envelops me and are dissipated gradually into its dense salinity. The imminence of total immersion is upon me; after the next furious wave of sorrow, I shall be no more. I must quickly transcribe my own epitaph in solemn whispers, invoking passion and recalling intimacy in the warmth of the summer. My sincere letter;
Dear Love,
If you should find my body, resurrect me in the healing of your affection and intimacy. Let me be broken from the shackles of pain and desolation and be set free; let me find an angel who will set me upon her mighty wings as I cry and take me up into the night skies — flying over the dark and deep waters that made naught the tears I cried and from which I was inexplicably revived.
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Tonight, hold me and let me me cry long held tears of pain in my vulnerability. Let your hair brush against my solemn face and kiss me in my weeping. Allow me to find comfort in the warmth of your breasts and peacefully sleep, finally finding my elusive rest. Tearfully, let me tell you all the things that you mean to me in sincerity; let me breathe the breath that you breathe and passionately give you all the love that is within me. Let me wash your hair in the wonderful aroma of nourishing conditioner with chamomile and lavender and blow-dry your flowing river right after. I find solace in the simple things, like watching you roll the length of your hair with curlers or seeing you moisturize your skin with body butter in the vanity mirror. Just your presence alone saves me from mental anguish and its terror. I adore the subtle intimacy of your loving whispers; tell me your feminine secrets, for I am in love with you that deeply. Let me see what you see and feel what you feel in all the ranges of your sensitive emotions, not just when you are happy. With love, you restore the pieces of my once shattered heart, slowly and methodically. What can a mortal render to an angel, save what he himself is and hopes to be? I give you even the marrow of my bones, my heart, and the very essence of me. I turn to you my angel; I turn to you, and you look upon me with gentle eyes. The words I transcribe from the bowels of my mind would have to be written in the ink of white gardenias, crushed rose petals and tears to even begin to describe the deep intimacy of my emotions. I love you with a transcendent love that pierces the clouds and touches heaven’s gates; tonight, my sweet love — hold me, sing to me, and lovingly caress my face.
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My love, If you should ever leave,
Take the beautiful parts of our moments,
And replant them in the rich soil
Of your fertile and loving heart
So I can grow again within your soul
And be immersed in the depths of you forever;
Remember the way I loved you without fear—
Remember the sincerity of my joyous tears.
Nurture me within your wondrous essence,
And carry me with you wherever you may be.
Let me breathe the breath you breathe,
And let me feel the emotions you feel.
Hide me away within the chambers of your heart,
And let me sleep in the comfort of your heart beat.
Let me arise in the beauty of your hazel eyes,
And be your subtle strength when you cry.
If you should ever give your precious love to another,
Preserve our most loving memories together
So my deep roots do not slowly die and my petals do not wither.
Allow me to flourish within you, even
In the harsh and bitter cold of the winter;
You do not have to keep the door of your love
Wide open for me, but please, just keep
The door slightly cracked so I can at least
peer through and see any love you have left for me;
And if not, let me cry my final tears
And fade away from you, quietly.
