Dawning Dusk

that first ray
peaking through the shade
is rigid and cold,
a separating blade,
and nothing I feed upon
as day stretches on,
satisfies my hunger

for, dawn is but a disruption,
peeling you from me

in the dusk, I dawn,
next to you

-artwork my Steve K found via google

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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

Confession

please forgive me,
for I have sinned,
it’s been so long
since my last confession

on humble knees,
I poured out my heart,
but only left
with more questions

the penance you gave
brought me no absolution,
I counted and prayed,
slid the beads trough my fingers

yet the weight of it all
just felt much heavier,
each step so wobbly,
with a guilt that still lingers

what do you want from me?
haven’t I paid?

I walk with compassion,
on this path that you paved

I give of my core,
hope for each soul I encounter,
and my heart is so open,
it often gets crushed

and why, oh why,
does it seem
that my own voice
is always hushed?

can you hear me?
do you care?

Oh, God
what if the one not listening,
is the me who’s too scared?

-art by Lita Cabellut via Pinterest

Flaw

she was in awe;
she felt as if they’d pressed themselves together until his bones passed through hers,
that they’d melded into the same person,
ever so briefly

and that’s what she believed true love to be,
what she always thought it should be –
this oneness that so completely consumed two people,
it would carry them on forever

but the hardest lesson she would ever learn
is that this was a flaw in her thinking,
in her expectation of love,
of another human being

for, no matter what she tried,
she could not reach into every part of him,
nor did he want her to;
no matter what she offered,
he could not reach into every part of her,
nor did she want him to

and all this time,
she thought that’s exactly what love was supposed to allow

she needed him,
she needed him, desperately –
he was the one place on this earth she felt safe and supported,
home

but she wanted, no needed,
to be able to disappear into herself
at times,
to find out where she stood and what she needed,
to figure out how to also be her own safe place
and her own support,
but she always needed to return safely home

-image via Pixabay

Fall

it was a arduous journey,
but with calloused hands,
I continued the climb

at the top,
I looked around in amazement –
everything was bright frosted stars and distances

the thing is,
I understood in that moment that there is no top –
there are only distances and scenery along the way,
and the ability to be awake enough to travel and see it all

so I closed my eyes and let myself fall

-image via Pinterest

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

Cultivating

the stress and heartache,
one thing after another in a combination of knock-out punches,
had nearly broken them,
yet here they were

it was a familiar place,
this raw place of survival,
one they’d been to before in their years together –
it is inevitable if you spend enough time building a life together

it was a place of choice;
a place where you can choose to hide or choose to be,
a place of past, present, and future at once,
where, if you’re ready, you offer up pieces of yourself with abandon,
in both fear and freedom,
where you grasp for humility and strength,
where, when you do,
you break free to someplace other,
a place only achieved when you’ve dug and excavated,
when you’ve both buried that which is no longer useful and unearthed something new,
something more

yet, that newness has roots that have burrowed so deeply in fertile soil,
it’s destined to reach for the sun
and weather the most viscous storms

she knew love is a conscious choice,
that it is cultivated and it’s hard work –
she never expected white horses,
nor did she need them,
but she could never have predicted the depth of the heartache and what it required of her soul

what she did know was that she was grateful to be here with him,
heart aching,
soul-searching,
burying and unearthing,
laying roots;
cultivating

reaching for the sun

-image via Pinterest