Certain words are electric charges
Of immediate synaptic responses
There is no struggle deep inside of me; only this flame,
That it’s to your delight,
That I shall give in,
And I shall breathe you in.
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I’ll be at your command even though I you may not always know it.
I need to be more disciplined, wanting you to know that trust we speak of…that type of passion that may only come once in a lifetime.
I want to fuck you until we both pass out. I want to suck you and lick you swallow you until I choke and gag and faint from exhaustion. I want to kiss and lick every inch of your entire being.
And be passionate about everything and not just the sexy kind of passion, but also the passion that exists in the depths.
These are feelings I have for you and the way I want to share life with you…
Simply. I want you always and sometimes I just need to be reminded of what you need too
Repeated scenarios in my mind
From training wheels to two wheels,
Dreaming of you; near me
Is often on my mind
Is it closing time?
Comfort me why don’t you?
I could be the dream of any man’s confession of love.
But I just want yours.
Perhaps the reality is
I imagine you and me
Chin to chin
Until our purpose
and incredible. Oof.
If you were to say it to me
Just once say…
I’d do it.
Give me a clue if you want to;
Like, “Let’s go!”
I will be listening so close,
Riding my bike all alone,
Turning in circles.
Do I exists in the beauty of your soul,
Lust lingering in the curve of my lips
To lose myself for hours in the ocean of your eyes,
Dancing to eternity on your finger tips,
To the rhythm of your heart,
To just to die in you arms,
Every fear I had has been taken away,
I know that you’ll keep me from harm,
Shall I retreat into the gleam of your smile,
And breathing just to take you in.
The Renaissance ideals that prevailed,
The Italians familiar with the history
Of the gods by the turn of the 15th century,
Painting, architecture, the liberal arts flourish
At the courts of noble rulers,
Above all, Venice was home
To a celebrated school of painting,
They were the greatest masters of the period.
Hundreds claimed to be gods,
To take young virgins to their bed,
But only take if he is genuine,
If so, he will give you his pledge of love,
Then ask him to take her
In all his majestic splendour
He can show her.
Ovid, Metamorphoses, “Semele” p. 106, v 280-285.
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'all our lives are a poetry - awake our souls.' ~ Battling the hypocrite within ~
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A Little Bit of Texas in Swansea Wales
Author of Paranormal Suspense
Writing fine adult fiction since 2012
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"Crítica Social, Lírica y Narrativa"