not our darkness that most frightens…
You sit in the light for me because I ask you to. You wait. You stroke my leg with a secret smile, and let me drink you in. I lose myself in my looking, in all your shadowed man-grooves. I lose my breath in your stillness. This pause we take is a lesson I don’t want to forget. I close my eyes; I want to imprint you deeper. When I open them, there you are – still waiting – wanting to be seen.
We are learning to be with one another, here, in this light that softens the heated edge of an afternoon delight. You lean back and even from this distance, I can taste your skin. Even as my supple clit thickens and my lips whet, you wait for me to be done with you. And in such thots, we stumble. Headlong, we stumble past one another in the crowded halls of Time. A cycle well-worn.
What songs are sung for a soul who seeks?
Who dances when the moon’s teat drips with longing?
There is nothing poetic about falling in love; it is starkest reality and basest need exposed. Utterly, it spends us even as we bleed. To love is to choose to be raw. Open.
Here with you, I walk blindly into an ancient light that conceals nothing, a light that wholly reveals from the inside. And suddenly, it is me sitting in front of another, being seen. We have shape-shifted into all our Unexpecteds. What there is, though, is light; a light that changes everything.
Look up, my soul whispers.
Here I am, my sweet.
Look up into Love.
Walk into the light.
I see you.
another gravity…
You see everything, you see every part.
You see all my light and you love my dark.
You dig everything of which I’m ashamed.
There’s not anything to which you can’t relate.
And you’re still here.
– Alanis Morissette –
this wind may blow the sun in…
Dear Gentle Sir,
There is the feeling when your cock falls into the back of my throat… when it pushes its way to the very most brink of my breath.
There is the feeling as the tears well up in my eyes… when you look back at me – no, into me – and we smile.
There is the feeling of pussy petals sighing, singing, spreading to make room for you… when my hard nipples make a different kind of mark than my scratches on your back and my heated bites on your shoulder.
There is the feeling of being held under sunsets that smell like summer fires… when you kiss my forehead and in braille, your lips write “I love you.”
Sweetly Yours,
Lola Moi xo
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’s in the translation…
My love, he asks for grace each time he reaches for me.
His words dance ’round the permission he craves.
His secrets are songs the land sings to the moon.
love is a growing up…
May I be between your two hands
the way sky is the center of beech dreams.
– Anita Endrezze –
i watch you without blinking…
Coiled inside the heat of my heart
quivers a velvety shadow of desire
I peel back time
I fold the edges of now
I uncrease the frown of hurried tomorrows
All to see you
Neither of us flinch.
– Lola Moi –
walk this way…
Some say that a woman is for sleeping with
Long winter nights…
Long winter nights…
Some say that a woman is for play-like
Like a sexy dancer on a green harvest ground
To make her dance with nine-castanets…
Some say she is my spouse…
Some say she is the spiritual debt
That I carry around my neck
Some say; she’s the one who leavens my bread,
Some say; she’s one who gives my children birth…She’s neither this nor that, not a sexy dancer, not a spouse, not a debt, none of that!
She is my arms and my legs and my head..
My mother, my wife, my sister, my lover-confidant
She is My Lifelong Bosom Friend…
-Nazım Hikmet –