It’s quiet here in the in-between, in the void. I imagine this is what space would feel like without the vacuum or the bone freezing cold. Here it is lukewarm and soothing, floating, submerged within nothingness. Here I can observe the river of time, remaking the past and creating the future without intense emotion or excessive overthought just my vivid and potent imagination. I know I can’t stay here, in the time out of time, but I will linger a little longer before I reemerge in the now, majestic.
The way he used to speak to me left ashes in my mouth as if the very air I breathed was scorched by the putrid flames of his chaos and anger. He was a manipulative gardener planting seeds of doubt, confusion, fear, pain and self hatred within me. I have fastidiously pulled these harmful weeds from my heart and mind. I swore to myself I would never live that way ever again, but this morning I woke with the taste of ashes in my mouth.
I carry you in my heart, this is where I feel your thoughts of me, releasing into my blood bringing me alive with desire.
Words errant satiety image ‘Paper heart’ by Naduss deviantArt
The temple of my heart has deep foundations.
Her deep rumbling love sound and expressive tail wrap around me as I release the days meandering fragments to the dark matter woven through our universal fabric. They will return winging softly, or whisper insistent inspiration in the ears of those who listen; if they don’t burn up on re-entry to this temporary home. But for now, my familiar on guard, I dream.
I can see you through the window, you’re in your home office leaning back in your chair eyes closed as if in a daydream. I wonder if you can feel me approach, feel my desire overwhelming me and leading me to your door. I let myself in the front door and as I reach the office doorway you are rising to meet me not a trace of surprise in your features. My body is lit from within so intense is my need to see you. I move toward you like liquid I want to pour myself into you. Embracing, my heart thuds intently in the moment before our lips meet and the fire of passion consumes us. Language of ours souls conveyed by our tongues as we kiss like our last breath is coming. Furiously, then as desire gives way to a more measured pace, lovingly, gentle whispering of want of need, of love. Your hands in my hair and around my ass as you pull me into you pressing me firmly against your whole body. Your teeth grazing my lip a growl bursting from deep within you and I am pushing you back into your chair. You know what I want and you don’t take your eyes from mine as I kneel to remove your belt buckle. That silken shaft so regal as I savour the length of you, there is nothing more erotic than the feel of a mans living sword sheathing in a woman’s soft wet mouth…
I paint with my words as if the world I see could be captured this way. Metaphor of my making, aromatic with lucid image, lost in moments of candour that may be too layered to read. I write from within the paradoxes, to soften the cacophony of existence or describe the impossible harmony. Enigma of living with heart, mind, and soul open to this moment, and then this moment. A gift of having opened my senses to listen to and interpret the many layers of this terribly beautiful world.