I give myself to you wholly and totally
With my scars, faults, and beauty.
Take all of me and love me,
Or reject me utterly in my vulnerability.
Tag: Thoughts
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Take my memory and do with it what you will,
but remember I loved you, in spite of, and without strings;
remember you couldn’t fly, but I gave you wings.
Remember you couldn’t sleep, so I stayed up with you
until you fell asleep in my arms, while I would softly sing.
Remember you couldn’t tell the difference between sex and intimacy,
until I held you into the morning, and kissed you slowly,
and wept, as I wrapped you in unselfish pleasure and the warmth of me.
Remember the times of your anxiety, when you couldn’t breathe,
and I talked to you in loving sincerity, and I became your peace.
Remember I adored you, and vowed to always love and protect you;
remember my solemn face and truthful eyes, when I told you,
that I would die for you, and in that moment, you knew that it was true.
Remember you uttered with tears, that you belonged to me,
and that I forever belonged to you. -
You hold the pieces of my heart in your hands
and before the world, you cruelly display me.
The looks, the rumors, and the whispers—
come from people we know mutually.
My soul holds onto the love,
the nights of intimacy, and all that used to be;
I curse myself under my breath,
for my own foolish heart betrays me.
I blow kisses to your pictures,
and again, I am at your mercy. -
A diamond sun shines its light on a fuchsia river
flowing flawlessly infused with pixie dust
and ghosts of kings past, with golden chariots.
The stars connect and form a mighty circle,
crowning the earth, for the giving of herself,
and for the miracles of her birth.
Joyous tears of archangels fall, causing
fallen trees to be resurrected and restored tall.
The crippled, and elderly near death, get up and walk.
Fetuses in their amniotic sacs begin to talk.
Mothers of slain sons cry no more,
for they see them in celestial bodies,
adorned in white, with golden crowns at heaven’s door.
The blood of the innocent are recompensed,
and evil doers are tried and sentenced;
The North Star is recognized because she is a guide,
and heard the wailing of many slaves
that fled on the nights she gave her light.
Terminally ill children, grow white wings
and begin to beautifully sing of their healing;
The blind regain their sight. -
The way he feels about her is like a beautiful song unheard;
the intricacies of its melodies held back by secret whispers
that the heart wants to declare loudly and succinctly.
He carries the heavy weight in his heart—
still somehow apprehensive to unburden himself,
so his soul will burn in blue fire until he vocalizes his desire;
In his dreams he holds her in intimate passion,
her hair flowing over his arms, as she whispers
beautiful words and smiles at him.
He must speak now or forever hold his peace,
lest he touch the depths of hell of uncertainty
for an eternity in disbelief. -
Just keep trying.
Groove Theory – Keep Tryin‘
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In intense release, sensual sounds move through walls,
and the body is taken over by pleasure, in waves of euphoric shudders.
In those enraptured moments, nothing else matters;
Intimate words are uttered in whispers, and eager lips find each other.
Dedicated tongues induce uncontrollable screams;
The control of steady rhythms flow like violet rivers,
Under a bright crystal sun in lucid dreams.
It is more than just a frenzied session;
It is the building of refined ecstasy in slow progression.
After several positions, there are four words whispered before explosion.
Silence falls — and the mind records from the tryst what it wants;
In the immediate after, the sensual rapture is vividly recalled. -
Weary and tormented with nothing left to give,
her tears fell on the letter that she neatly folded;
and in that cold room she sat listlessly
closing her eyes after the tears dried,
and she fell asleep for a little while,
awakening to the same thing that for so long she had been fighting;
and to get up, she placed her hand on a worn nightstand,
revealing the many scars on her skin under dim lighting.
And the tears came again, from tired eyes
that were closed so many times in endless praying.
In her frailty, she held onto an unstable cold railing,
in a torn nightgown, walking down the steps to the kitchen;
in tears, she started off with faint words in her whispering—
but then she kept screaming,
all I want to do is live again. -
A beautiful whisper
A seductive touch
A passionate gaze
Then midnight rush.
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Cold winds blow through leaves
In the fields where they were hanged,
And innocent blood was shed on trees;
At night, hear the restless souls scream
For blood and vengeance in their dreams.
Intimate Compositions 