Bring me all of your dreams,
You dreamer,
Bring me all your
Heart melodies
That I may wrap them
In a blue cloud-cloth
Away from the too-rough fingers
Of the world.
— Langston Hughes —
spring in autumn…
L
L
L
L
L
L
L
L
L
I taste you and realize I have been starving.
strait crossing…
The wind seduces me.
Always.
Like your eyes do.
Like your mouth… and tongue does.
Like your hands do.
And each sweet moan.
It matters not that I tell myself:
I am a creature of the land and my soul is the water.
It’s always the wind that captures me unawares.
just sayin…
heads or tails…
if i reach out my hand…
When you breathe on me, my body responds with your name. And I want you exactly where you are, the way you are. I want to spread myself so that you can peer deep into my need, and still sing my praises – even as my soul sings yours. I want your tongue to trace every tremor. Our fingers entwine because we meet in the middle, and the force of our meeting – this pushing, and grinding, and moaning into shoulders, necks, thighs, and more – is a blessing I have dreamt of but was afraid to ask for. Your eyes full on mine, now.
Come here.
Be with me.
My sweet lover, my friend.
Cum.