hours continuing long…

Hours continuing long, sore and heavy-hearted,

Hours of the dusk, when I withdraw to a lonesome and un-frequented
spot, seating myself, leaning my face in my
hands;

Hours sleepless, deep in the night, when I go forth, speeding
swiftly the country roads, or through the city streets, or
pacing miles and miles, stifling plaintive cries;

Hours discouraged, distracted—for the one I cannot content
myself without, soon I saw him content himself without
me;

Hours when I am forgotten, (O weeks and months are pass-
ing, but I believe I am never to forget!)

Sullen and suffering hours! (I am ashamed—but it is useless
—I am what I am;)

Hours of my torment—I wonder if other men ever have the
like, out of the like feelings?

Is there even one other like me—distracted—his friend, his
lover, lost to him?

Is he too as I am now? Does he still rise in the morning, de-
jected, thinking who is lost to him? and at night, awak-
ing, think who is lost?

Does he too harbor his friendship silent and endless? harbor
his anguish and passion?

Does some stray reminder, or the casual mention of a name,
bring the fit back upon him, taciturn and deprest?

Does he see himself reflected in me? In these hours, does he
see the face of his hours reflected?

— Walt Whitman —

our minor refusals…

A man looks deep into your eyes, practicing for the day he finally sees himself as fresh, so sweet. Your hair, your skin caught up in a man’s hands is the way he kneads Grace, Hope, and Faith into the marrow of his bones. His pre-cum glistens like the giving of his deepest heart; pristine. When your velvet, thrumming pussy clenches him tight, a man’s jaw tightens, and for that instance, he is undiminished – he is fearless.

Lola Moi

it went like this…

I want you, your brain, your body
(yes)
to fuck me senseless, to leave me with whisker burn for days
to feel naked even with clothes on
for want of remembering the way you look at me
(moan)
i want you to kiss me everyfuckingwhere
and lick me
grab me and hold me
(yes, fuck)
i want you, your brain, your body
to make love, sweet and gentle and slow
to me, just me
to love and fuck
fuck and love
(it’s all i want)
until i am turned inside out from care
left beautiful for your caresses
left shining from deep adoration
(fuck, yes)
our lingering goosebumps
a living torture
wanting to give more
a testament to shared desire
this once-gift
(yes yes yes)

an irretrievable truth between lovers

– Lola Moi –