all the light we cannot see…
pun intended…
Sometimes I insert us into porn photos and videos I see.
I like to think of you enjoying me.
I like to hear your breath in my ear – the sounds you make
when touching me pleases you more than you have words for.
joy to your world…
what lips my lips have kissed, and where, and why (sonnet XLIII)…
What lips my lips have kissed, and where, and why,
I have forgotten, and what arms have lain
Under my head till morning; but the rain
Is full of ghosts tonight, that tap and sigh
Upon the glass and listen for reply,
And in my heart there stirs a quiet pain
For unremembered lads that not again
Will turn to me at midnight with a cry.
Thus in winter stands the lonely tree,
Nor knows what birds have vanished one by one,
Yet knows its boughs more silent than before:
I cannot say what loves have come and gone,
I only know that summer sang in me
A little while, that in me sings no more.
— Edna St. Vincent Millay —
love sonnet xi…
L
I crave your mouth, your voice, your hair.
Silent and starving, I prowl through the streets.
Bread does not nourish me, dawn disrupts me, all day
I hunt for the liquid measure of your steps.
I hunger for your sleek laugh,
your hands the color of a savage harvest,
hunger for the pale stones of your fingernails,
I want to eat your skin like a whole almond.
I want to eat the sunbeam flaring in your lovely body,
the sovereign nose of your arrogant face,
I want to eat the fleeting shade of your lashes,
and I pace around hungry, sniffing the twilight,
hunting for you, for your hot heart,
like a puma in the barrens of Quitratue.
— Pablo Neruda —
this is my voice…
somewhere behind the morning…
Dear Gentle Sir,
If ever I have felt your mouth on me, it is because your tongue is a wand and my moans, my squirms, my arching spine, and spreading legs are the magic we make.
If I have ever felt your hands wrapped around me, it is because I am waiting for you to trace my curves and folds and slippery creases. It is because I want to feel your hands to spread me and juice me, as your fingers wander and whip me into the frenzy of delight I can be. I ache to feel your strong hands grip me with need and unstoppable desire.
If ever I have felt your cock slipping, inching, sliding, pounding, dancing, and filling me it is because you are beautiful and I am the mirror I want you to see. There you are – sexy, sweet, strong, and wondrous in your passion… even in your doubt, you are powerful.
Why else would I offer myself? Why else would I splay myself for you and your pleasure. Why else would I hold you in my arms and kiss you sweet? Why else would I try and try and try… until I have no words. Was it not you who titillated my mind and made my body tremble and arch and ache and drip and throb with impossible heat?
If ever you think of me, remember the gift you are. You still fill me like no other.
Squirmingly Yours,
Lola Moi xo
blessings for the longest night…
All throughout these months
as the shadows
have lengthened,
this blessing has been
gathering itself,
making ready,
preparing for
this night.
It has practiced
walking in the dark,
traveling with
its eyes closed,
feeling its way
by memory
by touch
by the pull of the moon
even as it wanes.
So believe me
when I tell you
this blessing will
reach you
even if you
have not light enough
to read it;
it will find you
even though you cannot
see it coming.
You will know
the moment of its
arriving
by your release
of the breath
you have held
so long;
a loosening
of the clenching
in your hands,
of the clutch
around your heart;
a thinning
of the darkness
that had drawn itself
around you.
This blessing
does not mean
to take the night away
but it knows
its hidden roads,
knows the resting spots
along the path,
knows what it means
to travel
in the company
of a friend.
So when
this blessing comes,
take its hand.
Get up.
Set out on the road
you cannot see.
This is the night
when you can trust
that any direction
you go,
you will be walking
toward the dawn.
– Jan Richardson –
someone save temptation…
boo…
Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before…
– Edgar Allan Poe –
