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a blade traces its pathexploring me as an extension of his desirespading a trail through the valley that lies between my face and chestsettling just beneath the curve of my jawteeth dig slightly in claiming purchase in my skin I am not supposed to want thisthe pain, the fearthe chase that goes on as I lie here and he continues waiting
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I think it is almost impossiblenot to fall in love with someonewho has written about you.. the blood& the bones
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Someone asked me recently if I fuck like I write. My answer was very simple… the kind of man who would ask such a direct question of a woman he does not know well would never know. Also, yes but better. the blood & the blood
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• do you know that I cum to you?that I bring myself to ecstasy at the thought of you conquering me?that I ride the surge of pleasure like a boat reaching shore imagining your mouth on my parted lips?legs spread, feet pressing into the bed like ocean waves reaching aggressively for the sandmy back and
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• a bladetraces its pathexploring me as an extensionof his desirespading a trail through the valleythat lies between my face and chestsettling just beneath the curve of my jawteeth dig slightly inclaiming purchase in my skin I am not supposed to want thisthe pain, the fearthe chase that goes onas I lie here and he
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He had no problem expressing his want for me with words. Like a primal poet who had finally found his muse and could not write or say the words fast enough. He made me feel beautiful, the way he craved me and the way he wasn’t afraid to say it. But I mostly preferred when
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I craved you in thewitching hoursmy incubusI could not want for you in the light of dayyou did not live thereyou were meant for secrets and I had finally found a way to keep them the blood& the bones
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• my body has become joint propertyand often more his than minea simple thought of himand I am there againfully immersedin the first timehe showed mehow pain can be pleasureand pleasure can be painbending me forwardfirm handsclaiming every bit of my exposuresinking into the exquisite memorythe thought of him so commandingas if he is right
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When is the time that love arrives and makes the house within my heart a resting place, a home? When will it sit with me for more than just a night or however long it takes to lose it’s comfort? knowing life is not always comfortable but love must become the rock that we build
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• On a late afternoon, middle of June… The sun had browned my pale skin bare in more places than usual in this dress of white cotton that catches an ocean breeze pushing down these unfamiliar streets.. Your hand high on my naked thigh or placed protectively on the small of my back. Always somewhere
The Blood & The Bones 