My crotchless panties are black lace.
They rest lightly on my skin.
I like it that way:
all the easier for you to slip into me
and all my thrumming, hot, hungry wet.
Fuck, I want that.
Right now.
let me see you glow…
Watching you…
I don’t want to miss a single moment.
eat, drink, and be merry…
to have…
the other is for goodness…
Dear Gentle Sir,
There are worlds between us.
When your full head peers into the abyss of my need, my petals spread like wings. I am Pegasus to your Zeus. (Though, who is muse to whom remains a bone of contention – one I’m content to nibble on.) To see you astride me is to believe in quantum physics: how else could we be here? Together. Entwined and wide-eyed like this?
As I arch to make room for you inside me, each intake of air births a belief… in the Impossible and in the Possible. Each moan may sound our names but it’s true nature is a blessing… Given and Taken.
When two become one in the Mystery of Meeting, we become feathers bound by blessed winds flying over mountains of pleasure and valleys of discontent. Each strain, each grip, every time we reach for the other sings us into a new moment. We become this. Together.
And still, you are so beautiful.
Missing You,
Lola Moi xo
anchor in the storm…
now i’m seeing…
People think a soul mate is your perfect fit, and that’s what everyone wants. But a true soul mate is a mirror, the person who shows you everything that is holding you back, the person who brings you to your own attention
so you can change your life.
– Elizabeth Gilbert –
until it’s done…
Oh, to be that hand that fondlespinchestwistsprobessqueezes
Oh, to be that mouth that slurpscaressesdrinkssuckles
Oh, to be that cock that dancesplungespoundsfillspulses
Oh, to be that cunt that takesitallandmore
to be wanted
to be the first and most
to be the last and beloved
to be all that I am not
Oh.
i will be blessed…
follow the light…
I have my version of this fancy.
It’s a poem of, oh, say sonnet-length;
it’s supple, undisrupted. It feels like this:
I close the door. (Behind it: gabble
and disjunction.) And I walk into the clear,
black night. I’m in a great arena. Nothing
can be seen – there may be nothing to be seen – except
of course for the ball on fire. That’s all I need.
That’s all: the darkness, and one burning sphere.
And I follow its light down the field.
-Albert Goldbarth –
