I Am Slowly Findling My Poems From The Tumblr Purge Of My Former Site.

Time Well Spent

We took the time. So much of it when we could have been doing.

But instead, we chose intimacy first. Time. Spent. Wisely. Learning

Just how much, and how far. How many and how much you believed you could.

What excites you. What scares you and yet still calls, now that you know fantasies happen.

And now, that time behind you, I know just how far to take you, and a bit beyond.

Never Enough

Somewhere, someone

Told you you were too much.

While I am left thinking

There is never enough.

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This poem has little to do with size.

When, or If

The thing is, I always start tender and for a few moments, maybe more, you are uncertain how you will bring me pleasure, when, or if the caress will turn into a sharp slap, when, or if your tender pink nipple will find itself clamped, chained or twisted. When, or if, you go from lover to slave and back again.

Limits

And just as you believe there are limits to what might become real, uyou find out there are not. None in you. And certainly none from me.

Stand Still

Lift up your hair and let me kiss you gently on the soft nape of your neck. 

Stand still as my arms wrap around you,  as my hands slide under your silken blouse to feel the fullness of your breasts. 

Surrender yourself.  Feel my cock swell in the hollow of your ass.  Know my hunger, and await it. 

Know that soon, I will enter you,  penetrate your body and your heart with my desire. 

Stand still. 

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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.

The Simple Truth

The simple truth is that you are beautiful. Always have been. Always will be. Perhaps none have seen it, too busy with their egos and fears, but that does not change what you are, only how you see yourself.

So let me capture you, with cameras and words, with the soft touch of a lover and the confidence of a man who knows the truth.

The simple truth. You are beautiful.

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.

Too Perfect

She is perhaps too perfect, too close, and at the same time too far away. Owned but only in the moments she is in need of the particular passion you offer, the only way you know how to love, an odd mix of tender and madness, too much for some, for most perhaps, but all you have.

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Reach out any time.

A Particular Love

I have a particular love

Of desecrating the innocent,

Particularly

Those who do not think they are.