A Change in Mood
It seems so intimate. So gentle on a Monday morning. Both of us knowing there is a long day ahead. A morning as gentle as the dawn sun until I tell you just what will be happening tonight. What to wear. What not to wear. and just how much of you will be ravaged by how many.
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.
Stop. Just like that. Let me admire you a moment. Each curve. The position of submission. A moment of perfection before the passion is unleashed and you are made a different kind of art.
Sometimes submissive has nothing to do with ropes and chains. There are no harsh commands or red marks left by hands and crops or chains. It is simply staying still as I take you in. Look at you, a woman no one would suspect contains such passion. Savoring each curve and your perfect skin. Knowing all that others cannot see, all that would amaze and scare and thrill them about you
is mine
After it all. The night. The taking.
The fantasy and madness.
The beyond expectations and in some cases,
Imagination. After your heart’s wildness,
The heaving breath. The throat sore from cries.
The marks.
After there is no one left but you and I
And the messy memory of our hours
And orgasms. After it all, there is this.
You in my shirt. A cup of tea.
My arms open to hold you
As long as you need to let it all sink in,
Allowing lust to become love
And memory,
and the certainty of more.
Hear them rustling behind you. Footsteps. How many? I promise you. More than you expect. Hopefully enough that when they are done, you will realize how desirable you are, and not just to me.
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Reach out any time.
Formerly “The Other Poems” with 12,000+ readers and correspondents until without warning Tumblr decided I was no longer worthy of web space.
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