Wednesday, January 20, 2010

Sensual Stories, January 20, 2010


We curled together
Our bodies united
So many different ways
She gave herself to me
Willingly, freely
And I took her

She was so young
Had not yet learned
To protect her soul
From life itself
I felt myself her guide
Not that I was much older
But far more tattered
And hard

When we kissed I felt her stir
Her body replied to every thrust
Her soft skin slick under my worn fingers
The wonder of her beauty never tired me
The delight of her soul with everyday things
Brought me joy beyond my cynic's droll view of life

I was careful with her. I touched her soul gently
Never wanting to cause her the hurt that would force her
To become as I, scarred over raw pain
I felt the weight of her heart in my hands
Light, gentle, untouched, innocent

Of course, there came a day when it was not enough
When carefree moments
The joy of unfettered youth
The need to go forward won out.
I knew it would
I waved adieu and watched her walk down the cobblestones
With a boy I could have killed in a single stroke.

Je t'aime, I thought. Always will, I suppose.
I took a deep breath, wiped my eyes.
Perhaps tonight I'll go out for a beer.


Submitted to the #journalling game - see

Tuesday, January 19, 2010

MicroFantasyMonday #63

Dreams II

Your lips beckoned
So red
So smooth
Pursed with desire.
Never did I hold back
I always came
Wanting you
Despite the pain.

I could almost feel the silk of your skin
Slide beneath my fingertips
You writhe with passion
Then slide away, laughing
As I try to claim you
Catching only a wispy touch
Your thighs, perhaps
Your back
Your beautiful golden hair

The sound of your gentle voice
Whispering to my ear
So missing from my life
These long months
But this is my dream
This is where we meet
This is where I can hold you
Once again
I can have you
Until morning's brutal call

The laughter stops
You lay back
Watch me for a moment
As you did
Then your eyes
Your beautiful eyes
Close again
Your body white and cold
I have lost you once more

I wake
There is no trace of your scent
No strands of your hair
No mark of your head on the pillow
You are gone


This is for MicroFantasyMonday; this week Ang's theme is dreams. I had done an earlier poem on a similar theme previously, although it was not a theme-driven event. This was what the theme of dreams led me to again.

For the earlier version see