I Love When One Of My Poems From My Deleted Blog Finds Me!

After It All

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.

This is How I Want You.

This is how I want you,  spent from hours of touch and penetration,  no part of you  innocent or unfilled,  your body trembling,  your throat raw from moans and cries of orgasm,  the sheets pulled loose by your clinched hands,  your nipples tender,  your clit throbbing,  beautifully abused,  you clamber up,  and whisper,  “Please” as you reach for my cock and draw it to your swollen lips. 

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Tumblr killed my original poetry site, The Other Poems, after 8 years and 12,000+ followers. If you would be kind enough to share this poem, I may find some of my friends and followers.

At Our Best

Every time I see you anew, I am unsure. A tender kiss? A ravaging? Domination or a focus on your beautiful pleasure? At our best, it's all four.

Hi, send me a private message

Reach out any time.

Hours

Hours. I can spend hours savoring each square inch of perfection,

made perfect not by popular standards or the right software, but made pefect because it is you.

After

After. After he is gone. After the three orgasms. After more than you imagined when you whispered what you wanted, After the amazement and the fear and almost pain of too much pleasure. After the hours of holding in the wake of it all. After you come to your senses and understand just how taken you were, you gather what is left of your clothes and come back. Held. Holding. The softest beg in your voice. "What can I do to thank you?" Yes. You are the perfect lover.

Reminder

Reminder

Every now and then I have to remind you whose mouth it is.

A Different Kind of Art.

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.

I love when I find one of my poems from my deleted blog, or in this case, they find me. @owithadash2point0 - thank you!

An Understanding.

I believe you finally understand. Anywhere means.... anywhere. Anything means anything. And mine means only. completely.

And Just When You Think

And just when you think there are no more adventures... I show you otherwise.

That is our life. And always will be.