Beyond Expectations

Another of my poems from my banished blog. I love finding these!

Timeless Night

A little laughter. A little conversation. A bit of flirting. The gentlest of foreplay. Time. Or perhaps timelessness. Paying no attention to it, only each other, with an intensity that is gradual, like crabs in a pot, the heat rising slowly, the dance growing, more and more frantic, the heat suddenly all, passion, and more, life turned to a desperation for each other, for penetration, need, until finally, the little death in a cry and overwhelming. Gasps for breath. until it begins again. A little laughter in our timeless night.

Dangerous

After a time.

Too much time.

And finally, alone.

A kiss. Where time stops.

And a kiss, dangerous for where it leads.

Every time

One of my poems from my deleted blog.

The power of submission

I look down to you on your knees,  this vibrant, powerful woman,  half dressed, submissive,  hungry, oh so hungry to please,  waiting for my touch,  waiting for my command and I am more than aroused.  I am humbled. 

I Cannot Get Enough

I cannot get enough of you. Not for a lack of trying. Not for a lack of pushing you into your imagination where dreams and fantasies become, yes, real. Not for a lack of desire, which somehow only grows each time you are moved beyond what you believed possible. There are more ways to render you helplessly loved than one lifetime can hold; not that I won't try. And try again, slave to your moans and screams and the look of love in your eyes afterwards. Ah, that look. I cannot get enough.

The Expression

There it is.

The expression

I have come to know.

You on the precipice

Between the familiar

And surrendering to letting it happen,

That one thing, once imagined,

Once fantasy, now upon you,

Your last chance to use the word

And be safe, or give yourself

To more that you believed you would ever

Actually

Do.

===========

I remember the first time I saw that expression on your face. And the second. And… Trust and desire as we moved from fantasy to reality.

The photograph is from a reader, used with permission. @capemayartist-blog

Too Much

Mostly when I think of romance it is in black and white, reminiscent of old movies, mixing the repartee and passion in equal amounts in a palette of history and promise.

But you are too much to hold to light and dark. White, shades of pink, eyes rich in color, nipples a shade of their own, lips always the color of orgasm

and even more so when you do.

Consumption

This is control. Not that I weild the knife, though I have often enough, but that you hold it, cut away the barriers, threaten your own perfect skin as you reveal the last of its silk for my consumption.

Creation

You could easily believe you made her up

She is that perfect.

A perfection beyond skin and curve and smile

even when you own her, maybe

particularly then. So perfect

that had you not held her

flesh and her heart in your hands,

you would not believe she was real.

You could not have,

even in your dreams, vivid as they are,

created her or the love

her body emanates in every image,

memory and hope.

When and Where

My hand reaches and finds your thigh,  resting there where all can see, wondering,  like you,  if,  or rather when,  my hand will reach up and claim you,  claim your moist heat for my own,  opening you,  probing you,  never satisfied until you cry out in surrender to your own pleasure. 

They can not know as I know,  that were I to slide my hand slowly up your silken thigh,  right now,  right here,  you would allow it,  the perfect submissive,  always willing to take,  or give pleasure at the moment of my desire. 

===================

Tumblr killed my former site, The Other Poems, after eight years of poetry and over 12,000 readers and friends. If you like this poem, please consider reposting it so I can find my friends and followers again. Thank you.

By now

By Now

By now you should know. Never say you are mine to do with unless you mean it.