She is so much more than they could ever know;
When you look upon her, see a beautiful sculpture of the creator,
But more importantly, see the beauty that lies within her—
The longing of her soul, and the grace of her demeanor.
Tag: Woman
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When it was over, he kissed her and savored the moments after,
going over scenarios in his mind, so the next time, he could again thoroughly please her.
And in his constant longing, he again aroused her, appealing to her erotic nature;
he then teased her neck, venturing lower and lower,
allowing the eagerness of his tongue to take over.
In sweet ecstasy, she released loudly,
in the place where the taste of her still lingers. -
If only I could touch her face
and tell her through my eyes
what words could never describe. -
In darkness, she is beautiful.
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We dance intimately in a grand ballroom, just you and I;
you kiss me, and I am yours completely.
You stun in a formal white dress, chandelier earrings, and a diamond necklace.
Strappy heels add to your appeal, and I am immersed in your rapture;
I spin you around as we dance if beautiful synchrony.
Tonight, whisper your heart’s sincerity — and capture the depths of me.
Reveal secrets to me, and know in your heart that you can trust my confidentiality.
Again, kiss me deeply, and know that I love you with everything that I have in me.
As we dance slowly, let me be lost in the comfort of your femininity.
Seductive utterances are not enough; hold onto the essence of my being,
and know that I could never live without you.
Another spin, and from behind is how I hold you—
With loving arms around you, we rock from side to side in sweet caress.
You place your hands on top of mine, and what I feel…
What I feel in this very moment, I can’t describe.
Right here and right now, I dance with a goddess in my eyes;
You tilt your head back, and your hair becomes a gloriously flowing waterfall;
I love you; you move me deeply — without saying anything at all. -
You speak to me through abbreviations of the heart:
a light kiss; the brush of your hand against my wrist;
the way you gaze at me when you take your hair down;
your loving whispers to me when I’m down.
Confessions of the heart don’t have to be long —
in short form, I understand.
Through the falling of my joyous tears,
I tell you I love you, again and again. -
For so long I held on,
my tightened grip—
a surety that I would not slip.
You came and held onto me as I wept,
and talked to me with love,
through gentle breaths.
To convince me to release,
you guided me step by step;
in my apprehension
I feared my descension,
but you promised to be my protection.
The torment of my soul
was my vulnerability,
still, I closed my eyes and let go;
you caught me,
and I finally breathed deeply.
In my descent into your loving arms, I fell freely.
In my release, you became my peace.
I kept falling—
and love is what I fell in. -
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. -
In your embrace, spiraling black waterfalls are released
Vastly flowing over brown hue contours,
Pouring into deep spinal ridges and forming new rivers.
Calming morning showers on yellow butterflies
With an emerging sunrise, are your whispers.
The brightness of your radiance is the accumulation
Of the rays of the sun, for seven summers. -
Sitting on a twin sized bed in a dimly lit motel room, she lights a cigarette and opens up a bible; she inhales the nicotine, then a slow exhale. After reading a few verses, she closes her eyes and takes another pull; she has worked all night and she is tired, with a little redness of the eyes, but she is beautiful. The intricacies of her contemplation could never be properly conveyed through any written literature or narration. She makes money anyway she can, to feed herself and provide for her son, but she seldom sees him. She prays money’s accumulation will be her salvation; she wants to be a much better mother and live again. The tobacco in her cigarette nears its end — she takes a drink, leaving the condensation on the night stand. She lies down with the television on, the volume low. The comfort of a comforter underneath her, she meant to cover herself, but she was too exhausted. Her eyes close with the hopes of beautiful dreams. She slips her left arm under the coolness of a soft pillow, falling asleep in her heels.
Intimate Compositions 