love · Poetry

Let Me In

Available at Esty 

My heart stands still in time,
Waiting for a distant answer.


If you let me love you
I promise to be true
I would never leave you,
‘Nor allow another between the two.


If you let me love you
our friendship would be strong.
Our midnight confessions,
passionate salt-laced injections
wild and demented.

a little crazy,
a little sane,
bodies excited within a range.


If you let me love you
Things would be complete.
The search would be over
as I lay my heart at your feet.


Let me love you.
Care for you.
Be there for you.


Let’s laugh the rest of our lives
maniacal and erotic.
Undeniably true.


DIH 12/16/18
Advertisements
#sex · Poetry · Power

Wednesday

Waiting for the beginning.
Breathing lightly on his chest
watching the follicles dance.

licking my lips
tapping wetness on each nipple.

I am bored.

Slide down,
reverse.

My tounge explores further.
He offers a sigh to my journey.
I offer no reply.

Swirling tiny circles.
Gentle nips on the thigh,
searching hands find
tender flesh.

Shaven and smooth
seeking attention silently.
Stroked gently with slithery digits.

My Quartet
Tongue
Lips
Mouth
Hands.

In unison they play.

Scream to the tempo.
Look back wild eyed at me
this pleasure I control.

"I want to hold you."
He pants in heat.

"I haven't finished."
I proclaim.


DIH 12/15/18



 
#sex · dating · Poetry · relationships · sex

Cheap Date

Close your eyes for me and I will bind your wrists with doves.

Feel their fluttering

Wisps of moisture.

Spread your wings and I will mount the forest

Release unknown truths into your lips

Mutter promises so deep they lie.

Bind my soul to you in one explosive moment

A moment

Not a lifetime.

I am no ones possession.

Fluttering bound white bangles.

And yet you cum to me.

Mindless with passion

Pointless with words.

Yes, bind my wrists

Possess me for your moment

If it pleases the child.

You can hustle pigeons

For more women

It’s my gift.

DIH 12/12/18

loneliness · love · Poetry · relationships

IRL

When things are stated blankly

Given air to breathe

Reality sets in frankly

Girl, you are out of his league.

What can you offer?

What do you have to give?

A little midnight nuzzle?

And probably some head.

He can get that anywhere

Any day, date or time.

What makes you think he wants you?

You are nothing to desire.

Visions and visuals

Are not actual facts

He may be the least desirable one.

You may be the prize catch.

Either side of the argument

Requires knowledge and proximity.

Distant love affairs are destined to fail

When he doesn’t know you for real.

DIH 12/10/18

loneliness · Poetry · sex

617

My friend tried to scam me again.

He never was a friend from the start.

Another entity across the keyboard joined through the internet.

I began thinking about 617

Wondering if he thought about me.

 I’ve considered my loneliness,

how I needed someone to talk too.

And I did it.

I called an old lover of mine.

One I swore I would never speak to again.

Of course, he didn’t answer and I didn’t leave a message.

Have I been dragged down so low?

Scraping the bottom of rejection.

Ignoring past lessons for a chance at shuddering nakedness.

If he were here, I would ride.

If he were here, I wouldn’t care how he hurt me.

Discarded me.

I would ride for my satisfaction alone.

And quiver inside at that moment.

It would be mine and I would slide off,

and leave his one-room flat unclean.

This time I would be on top.

Instead, I sit at the other end of a keyboard.

Wishing for wetness and sore thighs.

While my orgasm lies in Boston.

DIH 12/6/18

Letters · love · relationships

5:15 – A letter

To the man I may one day love. I want you to know one thing. You’re late…

I’ve wasted years and months and dreams upon you. Waited in tears and time and pain for you. Dabbled in sexual positions and acts. Some were surprisingly worth the journey. My heart was never in it although my body was its slave.

I soon tired of the pleasure others stole from me while I received none. “I need passion!” I’ve yet to find it.

To the lovers who abused me verbally and emotionally. Die.

This happened as I searched for you in strangers eyes. Hoping you were there. Praying this was going to be something that lasts. Rather than crash and crush my confidence. I don’t blame you future love. 

I blame my willingness to have something rather than be alone.

Alone is not such a solitary word. There is safety and warmth and love in knowing you can never break your own heart.

Youth brought dreams of wedding gowns and a reception on a faraway islands that would last for days. I dream big love. Admit it, weddings are boring. Its the booze and the dancing and the food which make the event. Cut to the chase I say. Jump to the judge and blow it all on the reception.

I’ll only do this once or not at all. Marriage would be a celebration of two souls finding each other. Building love and family and hope. Memories good and bad and George and Martha. There was love there as well as cruelty. No marriage is perfect. I’m not delusional. 

These are dreams and thoughts and desires. You’re still not here. Whispering in my ear as we stand in line trying to make me laugh. Holding my hand in yours as we walk. Kissing my neck gently followed by the flick of your tongue. Reminding me of what the night brings after the day has retired. 

Security in the knowledge that you won’t leave. In the knowledge that you are more than a lover. I have found those and none have pleased. There was no love there only my love lost on paper dolls pretending to be men.

I’ve cared for grown children damaged and lost in their own way. I have never loved one of them. The experience will be new. If the train ever arrives. 

The 5:15 is always late.

DIH 12/5/18

Poetry · relationships · Self Image

The Answer

She said "You must have been in love."
Taking a moment to analyze the notion

The idea of loving someone's company
Happily cooking and cleaning
Dressing just for him.

The upkeep of beauty is exhausting
Shaving my legs and arm pits daily
razor burns and nicks.
Blood spilled for love?

It's not unheard of, but my blood?
Does love mean sacrificial offerings
worshiping your lover to some extent
And losing yourself.
Just for love.

It is not love
Rather the romantic idea of love.
Of what it should or could be.
But never quite reaches the prose.

My days of blood offerings are gone.
Romanticizing the feelings
the loving foolish might be with me
The act is not.

DIH 12/4/18