That you love me.
as i lay beneath…
my wounds
don’t feel
like wounds
in your hands.
they feel
like beginnings,
like a chance
to make things
right again.
— Pavana Reddy —
immaculate consistency…
Dear Gentle Sir,
At the crosswalk, the stranger eyes me from the other side of the street. He imagines what might be my favourite position even as he places me in his favourite position. He wonders what I might taste like. And if my full lips could make him cum.
He imagines his view standing over me, bent over, ass up, taking it from behind with the kind of wild pleasure he imagines he could give me.
He imagines my expression as I finger myself for him. He watches me intently. Trying to guess what my nipples look like. He notes my long, lean legs and imagines spreading them, watching my pretty pussy squirt all over his tidy work pants.
I allow this. I look him in the eye. He meets my gaze and for a very long moment, he believes that I want him just like he wants me. The light changes. We step into the street and we take deliberate steps towards one other.
I look at this body and appreciate its breadth and width. Without a doubt, his cock would fill me many times over. I note his strong hands and thick neck and the way his jaw clenches as we draw ever closer.
I see the hunger in his eyes—I know that look. He is expectant as our paths meet in the middle of intersection.
He slows a fraction, straightening his spine, making room in his pants for the throbbing shaft that is heating up for me. In that moment, I know I can say anything and it—he— will be mine.
And all that comes to mind is your name.
Only Yours my Love,
Lola xo
the air soft…
A soft kiss placed in the right spot while wrapped gently but firmly in your arms… it is the gateway to all my pleasures. Your gentle touch is the inspiration of my depths. To be treated as precious inside your passion is the bloom of my ache. The everyday of our connection is more; it becomes the wild secrets that explode between us in the middle of the night—that keep us up into the wee hours when we are apart. Never underestimate what moves me to say “yes” to even the unspoken wishes you hoard; it is you and always will be.
i wrote a good omelet…
I wrote a good omelet…and ate
a hot poem… after loving you
Buttoned my car…and drove my
coat home…in the rain…
after loving you
I goed on red…and stopped on
green…floating somewhere in between…
being here and being there…
after loving you
I rolled my bed…turned down
my hair…slightly
confused but…I don’t care…
Laid out my teeth…and gargled my
gown…then I stood
…and laid me down…
To sleep…
after loving you
— Nikki Giovanni —
you can’t. not yet. so don’t…
“What does it take to inspire you?”
He asked.
“I need to fall in love,” she replied.
“Surely there must be an easier way,”
he retorted.
“Why, I have already fallen in love twice today,” she answered,
“First, when I set my eyes upon the
ever precipitous mountains that surround us,
guarding us like the skin that stretches along our bones,
and second,
with the uncertainty in your voice when you asked
if there is anything easier than falling in love.”
— n. o. —
i am part of all that i have met…
