My mind goes to the next encounter.
Where I come to your place, you say no, I take off my clothes, you say no, I rub up against you, my skin on your shirt, you say no. And I have to know, what do I have to do to say to get you to say yes.
When we are only connected in dreams, why do you reject me?
It’s the one safe place we can be together.
But I leave, my tears blurring my vision through the windshield.
I still love you.
My mind goes to the next encounter.
When I was younger I wanted to be a sexual icon.
I wanted the masses to flock to me, adore me, wait for me to say something so they could hang on to every word like it was the last thing they would ever hear.
My body redefining the standard of beauty, women in perilous envy, men rediscovering sensations they had forgotten existed.
Instead, I selected my thoughts, my words, my perverse way of looking at the world and all it’s inner workings and all it’s pleasures.
And people still hang on my words, waiting for me to say something, to do something, to look at them a certain way.
Feed your sexual ego.
Let it’s tongue graze over your body as shivers run down your spine.
Add us on Facebook!
Post your works, events, you tube channels, etc.
I look forward to adding you.
Regardless of their criticisms, their snide remarks behind your back, their judgmental looks when you walk into the room.Tigers intently protect their cubs out in the wild.
But they want the world to see their grand bloodline.
They gracefully and majestically stroll into the hot sun, one by one, in perfect synchronicity, each footprint making a deeper and deeper mark into the wet, moist earth.
Not an ounce of shame is shown as they slink into the cool waters on a hot day.
The smallest ant to the largest elephant watches their miraculous show. They hide from no one.
You are living fire and it is of your own choosing as to how intensely you want to burn.
Utilize the tools within you to birth a masterpiece that will be talked about, analyzed, and dissected for centuries to come.
You are both the creator and the creation.
Be mesmerized by your own glory.
Pull the rabbit out of the hat and set it free.
I served as an inspiration to women, the adoration pouring over me like wine at a ritual.
And my motherhood is my undoing, refilling the bottle, retracing the steps, and finding someone new to admire.
There is no worthy excuse that validates the soft range of emotions I feel on a daily basis. My heart is torn by basic animal nature, my instinct bloodthirsty with another female’s throat on my fangs. But her cub follows her into the wild, while this lone lioness must go her own way.
Nature lets me mourn as she does.
Your breath lingers on my body as your want lingers in my mind.
Have you conquered me or have I conquered you?
I feel triumphant in our decadent marathon of post nuptial arrangements where the titillating comments drive me to the end of another day.
You are my sweet success, my indulgent reward to a life not guaranteed with a desirable outcome.
Let your lips hover over the fleshy mound that lies before you.
Enjoy your prize.
Revel in the taste of unknown conquest where your ego dictates that you have mastered all of those who came before you.
Cherish my hand running down your spine, grasping your hair, teaching your spine to move in conjunction with my torso.
You have won.
Claim your trophy.
I might view Heaven differently if I believed that we could let our souls get there.
When being tethered to hell on earth becomes amended to our society’s constitution, it becomes hard to fathom green pastures and flowing springs for eternity when the grass has been replaced with money and the water is actually oil.
Do our passed relatives forgive the sins of our present? When the white light finally reaches us, do they simply hold their hands up with a look of discernment in their eyes and mouth the words, “Not yet”, as they shake their heads in remorse?
I pray, when my time comes, I’ve already had my Heaven here.
Because you never know what lies in store for those of us who actually wonder.