Three

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Two become three: a torrid triangle

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Denouement

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The mirror reflects
The denouement
Of a rushed
Stolen moment
A sudden caprice
Reckless abandon
Reminiscent of a courtesan
Jaded face
Crumpled dress
Hair in disarray
The smell of sex
Hangs in the air
Heavy
Filling the room
Like a bouquet
Of tuberose flowers
Which exhales
As it fades
Poisoning the night
As it slowly dies

Casualties

You are finally mine,

the tip of my tongue traces the fine lines in the corner of your eyes

you grab my face, pulling me closer,

you pulse inside me while white flashes make the room fade in and out

as waves of pleasure roll through me like the sea surging forward,

pausing

holding perfectly still for an exquisite second

and withdrawing

before starting all over again, repeating its infinite journey

Yes, the beast has been released, clawing and biting,

rendered mad by the prolonged waiting –

it won’t be satiated until we fall on the field exhausted –

and then it will be said that lust has claimed its casualties.

Fantasy

Your face is hovering on the edge of my day, steadily driving out all coherent thoughts from my brain.
Night descends and you become a distant galaxy stretched across the sky, pulling me in with the intensity and insanity of a forest fire devouring everything in its path without regard for maps and lines drawn by man.
The dark swallows me whole, no pinpricks of light in the tight fabric of life, just this ferocious lust, the torture of my flesh moving, undulating under your faraway hands, I try but fail to catch my breath as you touch me, and I ignite like dry kindling despite the rivulets running down my legs. I can’t breathe and yet my fingers rake through your hair and my nails engrave deranged poems on your skin, you move inside me, stealthily at first, just as I like it, before gaining strength and speed and I scream into empty space, my throat raw, the primal sounds getting lost in the caves of the Stone Age.
All of this, a wild fantasy we’ve built, one which has coloured too many days not to become reality.
As Spring begins-how fitting- real sex and nothing else, because you and I have the same flames running through our veins and once I’ve tasted every bit of you, and not before then, the world can exercise its privilege to fucking go to hell.

Emotional Lover

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Feelings simmering…fine and dandy…for a while…but simmer for too long – the lid kept on tight – and they bubble over…triggering small explosions at first, then a torrent of frustrated, harsh words…fights, bitter arguments, and their toxic aftermath.

When there’s no way to blow off the steam, when lust isn’t acted upon except in fantasies and dreams…you end up with a witches’s brew… each nonaction, another turn of the screw —everything heightened, desperately askew.

Is there anything more pitiful than an emotional lover? Trapped in a bubble, without the release of sensual pleasures.

I’m a woman…a little too wise and grown, to take this blowing hot and cold…to understand your insistence…determination, to bury your head so deep in the sand…to watch you allowing us to disintegrate, by refusing to open the floodgates…to accept your willingness to keep us in this intermediate state…where we’re neither this nor that…yet this is where we are – we’ve been – at…for far too long…and you’re happy to prolong it, to leave things this way — fissures appearing regularly, painful jagged fractures, until we get to the final definite rupture, the ultimate break that can’t be mended, the eruption that could so easily be avoided…with simple common sense, and the courage to not go through life purposefully blindsided.

Image Credit: Lover-and-the-Wild’s DeviantArt Gallery

Wild

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Her body ached for his touch
longed for the sensual pleasures
implied in his words —
yet her head couldn’t help but analyse
always appraising,
weighing up the risks,
conjuring up
dire consequences
should she give in
to feelings and lust
rendered ferocious
 probably even vicious
by the waiting
and lack of trust

So in this dreadful way
she agonised
over what to do
while the desire
raged inside her,
the caged beast clawed
and scratched to get out
this particular beast had teeth
it would bite on its release…
maybe some things
should never
be unleashed
her mind whispered
insidiously

Her head and her heart –
forever torn between the two
Pray give this girl a stiff drink
and tell her to please chill out

Image Credit: karadjinovicmarko.deviantart.com