I
put clouds-as-my-hands on her to move me along.
She turns onto me as a constant, having her own way. My fervor under her works towards her
radiance, showering me as she speaks a consummate silence, face
to face. Tonight we play as spirits making love with her dreaming me. She gifts
me with nothing but fullness. She is accessible rhythm dressed in provocative cloud lace, igniting me. Her
intention to spend the night gives me no hurry. I go on feeling safe with this
surrender. She is with me on her own terms: direct with her eyes, senses my
vulnerability, knows forever my every thought unblinkingly. I am devoted to
this relationship that never gets named. Intimacies are always exchanged. She
is my confessor. She brings her wardrobe of moods, all her dispositions meeting
my needs. Then with "Wondrous" on my lips, she scrubs and bathes me. Without
real sight of her body, I make loving a finesse, lean into the stand of her
being, grab her, pulling her flesh down on me, longing for the act, the
penetration. But I have learned to listen to her, she tells my story better in
all ways. I am relaxed in our relationship, now I bring her moods, she fetches
me knives to cut out my eyes. Tonight's exchange; my simple anxiety, her
invitation to blind faith. I sing to myself under her. She spreads herself wide
over me. I
am onto her canyon, a moist velvet vastness envelops my intent. Holding me in
this cave of release, embraced by a frame that gives me
no limits. She is a silent growl over me, a warm lick on to me. The rain comes
from the sweat on her body working me.
She opens the gate of my blessedness, love has no other place to go with
me, everything is on the bed of our making. My sweat turns sweet, I am lying still
in my movement under her. This passion teaches my mind it is fine to be the
last to know. Love is like that. She draws out the spirit of animals from
within me. I recognize them as their wildness escorts my soul. All the elements
that keep me, in time and frame, with form and mass, are my best gifts to her. Caught
in the momentary venom of self, the
answer is not the spit of a wet dream. Enhance her engorgement
and time will stand still. Masculine
chemistry dresses me in a cape of dumbfounded mystery. My release is a summit
of transcendence, to swim with her
spirit, ignited to a deeper place. She
is sacred to me and she parades herself across my sky!
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