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caçadores de tempestades…

I undress you
because I want to
and in this simple action of removal
you are seen.
Like a whirling dervish
my tongue weaves magic.
Your breath the wind
bending tree boughs to its will.

A curtain parts
The space inside blooms.

Out here in the real world
people suffer a kind of emptiness they do not understand.
That echo they hear
whenever they speak?
they hear as car horns
or train tracks clicking past nowhere on the horizon.
There is no velvet to touch
No silk to grip, to sing into.

My lips part to say your name
The storm approaches.

– Lola Moi –

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far beyond yourself…

jubilation

L

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

drink from this, my well of jubilation
seep into the crevice where stories blossom
triumphant
glorious
fearless

lead me to the water’s edge
see me as a vision
see me as i am
a woman
a man
a heart beating strong
a massive jumble of a puzzle
lost and found

drink from this, my well of silent suffering
seep into the crevice where laments thrive
searing
formidable
cleansing

my hand cups the truth
covers my mouth
and still you sing to me from tomorrow
i will meet you there
i will not falter
nor hide
there is no shame
in who or what has been

i will meet you
there
across a chasm i cannot fathom
i will meet you there
there
i will be

L
– Lola Moi –

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feeding you…

My fingers find their way to your mouth. You open for me and let me in. Tentatively… no, gently, I enter: one finger at first. Your tongue: warm and intelligent, dances with my curious skin. We listen to the music of our breath, and soon the tempo of my heartbeat pushes me deeper. I can taste you. I can taste the pleasure between us.

I moan.
You sigh most deliciously.

I could stay here forever, with my breasts resting snug against your chest, your hands lightly holding my hips. Our lips barely touch. We are so close together… all we are is breath. My fingers deftly trace and mark my need; my gasps become the sound of our shared desire. Your warm, moist, hungry mouth tugs and I arch as your confident hands pull my wet closer. Yes, my wet – you can taste it through my fingers and now we both moan.

Your soft tongue wrapped around my finger is naked…

feeding him