Composition

as the morning breeze whispers
the melody we made,
the sting and ache echo
last night’s chorus
with each movement,
replayed

the warm sheets still hum
our candlelit din,
a masterpiece composed
over willing skin

-artwork by Egon Schiele

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Bruised

he was all teeth and muscle,
blades of white pinching at gooseflesh,
sharp intakes of air heaving and leaving in labored gasps and moans,
his warm wetness closing in around the sting,
sucking so hard my eyes clamped shut

but I did not arch away –
I pushed myself further into his mouth,
welcoming the pain,
as famished fingertips dug into my back as if reaching for something he could not wait to unearth

in that moment,
I wouldn’t have minded if he drew blood;
he was devouring me, consuming me

needing me

I gave all I had to give,
and I took it all in,
all he had to give,
the needing and the wanting and the desiring,
the unhindered exposing of his soul to mine,
the becoming
one

for, we knew,
in the giving and the taking,
in this most sacred exchange,
this unhindered merging,
we would both feel stronger than we’d ever felt before

more

in the end,
I would be covered in his marks,
scratches and ribbons of redness,
I would be rubbed straight to the bone with the kind of urgent exhaustion I imagined an addict feels between fixes

I would wake,
bruised to the marrow with him,
he a part of me,
and I of him

forever

-image via Tumblr, original source unknown; shared as part of dVerse Poet Pub’s Desire and Sexuality prompt

Home

in a single breath,
bodies collide,
all hands and fingers,
grasping and digging,
until all-the-weight is pinning her down,
anticipation buzzing between them

tangling around wild curls,
gripping fists pull her closer,
and closer still,
until her every gasp
becomes his next breath

begging to be traveled,
slick bodies are grand landscapes,
delicious peaks and valleys
for savoring,
hands and teeth and muscle
the cartographers,
charting maps through hearts
and over needy flesh,
as they merge

he moved in her,
with her,
for her

and she knew exactly why –
now they will always
find their way home

-art by Leonid Afremov, Kiss of Passion

Marry Me

speak to me in dragon’s tongue,
in silk fingertip,
and breathless grip,
claim me, show me I’m the one

listen to me with thirsty ears,
with eager de Sade,
and lightning rod,
pushing boundaries, facing fears

speak to me in action alone,
narrowing all distance,
diminishing resistance,
the only sound our primal moans

listen to me shout your name,
in arches and cries,
and quivering thighs,
an eternal, fiery flame

marry me in spirit and soul,
intersecting hearts,
one sum of all parts,
enhancing strengths to make us whole

-image via Tumblr, originalsourceunknown

Write Me

write me in lead,
verse in unending lines,
in loops and curves,
without any rhyme

write me in sonnet,
without any words,
in fingertips, buoyant,
like the wings of birds

write me in symphony,
with only your eyes;
be the conductor,
between willing thighs

write me in love song,
with fists gripping tresses,
in fevered gasps and moans,
and sheets left in messes

write me in lead, Dear,
a powerful refrain,
then, erase me, My Love,
and do it again

-image found on Tumblr, source unknown

Tidal

behind her clenched eyelids,
with arched back and tilted head,
in labored gasps and moans,
she’s immersed, being lead,
the blackness no longer black,
and the sheets no longer thread

she is transformed into fluid,
a rippling depth of dark and light,
please stop and please more,
seemingly at odds, but not quite,
he the maestro of the current,
in their duality, they ignite

skillfully she’s driven,
to her edge and back again,
as the moon pulls the tide,
and the tide pulls the sand,
where want turns to need,
and need begs with fisted hands

until his words open the dam,
and breaking waves over her flood,
in the surge of their tide,
and swell of their love,
his control and her surrender;
equilibrium, they’re whole

-image via Pinterest

Reverence

something had shifted,
they could both feel it;
it hung in the air,
an energy circulating the room that neither could ignore

it was as if they’d been in the dark,
just out of reach of one another for far too long,
the reverberation between them reminding them why they were here,
why they’d always been
right here

impassioned, something deep inside him stretched out and curled around her like a shawl,
his finger reaching up to move the curls from her face so he could see directly into her eyes,
and he kissed her,
all of her,
even the parts they’d both been afraid of,
and he didn’t let go

and she let him,
her fingers careful and deliberate as she undid the buttons of his shirt,
her body following whatever her heart desired,
wherever this energy took them,
allowing him to see her,
needing to see him too

they touched each other gently, at first,
as if it was the first time they’d been together,
and that was true, really –
they touched with no expectation,
with no pretense,
with all they had to offer,
and receiving with an openness that had taken all these years to find

they noticed everything,
every shiver and tingle and gasp,
each curve and freckle and goosebump

they noticed their bodies were older, now;
she gripped muscles that weren’t as strong as they used to be,
kissed the wrinkled lines reaching out from the corners of his eyes,
and he traced the silver scars from childbirth weaving a patchwork across her abdomen,
cupped breasts that had become much more malleable –
it was all a part of their story,
a story they wished to tell with the lights on

so they touched in fevered fingertips,
with an urgency that rose from a depth they’d not once known –
they no longer had to be careful of one
another –
they had a reverence for their fragility,
but knew they’d never break

-image via Tumblr

Moonlight

she was both chaos and calm,
a mellow, platinum-burning flame,
all possibility,
and I was lost in the haunting
lullaby of each sultry flicker

she was larger than life;
she wore her soul on the outside,
a silvery wraith glimmering in the lonely night,
and I was the sea,
drawn to her in heaving swells and sighs

she was all mine, I thought,
but try as I might to hold onto her,
she was pure effulgence,
and I became the shadowed parenthesis

she wasn’t earthly;
she was made of moonlight –

and she was meant to be set free

-image via Pinterest, source on image