Erotic
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Bold nights. Centered frights.I wake to find youless than a note awayon a scale of burningsheet music. To shadows, that escapewith greater speedthan fading sunlight. You will be morphedwith all your sunset curves. You will be more distant,than when you dimmed. You will be blackenedat connections of heat,becoming furtherthan stagnant distance. Fires extinguishat a bottle
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Those wraparounds,bold curves. Wide in swerves,undressing in shadows,dressing in lace.Broken hands come around,embracing poison of sweat,water of lily pads. Between you, to bewithin you, I hold all ofyour declining droplets,meant for my mouthscarred from absence,meant as a substanceto feel like real presence. I bring you down to softnessfrom those rocks, cloggedin your eyes. I help
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“A man is gifting, when he forsakes what he feels, for the feelings of a woman. A man is vain, when he forsakes what a woman will feel, for the sake of what he can attain. If, in bed, a man cannot gift to a woman her pleasure, in sole focus on her feelings, then
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She entertains to the sight of this mirror, leaning against this room’s furthest corner. Upon her blankets to a twin bed, ruffled as they are to the outcome of a night’s soaring passion, she swims through the waves of them to partake for a closer look. She is adorable to her nature, agleam to her
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Love walks. She walks. Or, she had walked, and now she lays. Upon a back with eyes to a ceiling. Her ceiling. Her mind with walls and the drawn-in above. A world of hers, this Lisa, who can smile without sincerity. Radiance makes its way over her skin, masking something more than this. A belief
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He carries her. She is guided under his palms, meant for this. For the rushing blood, the skin to be agleam under the brightening moon in the midnight hour. He has startled her, in his wrapping arms about her feebly thin waist. He watches. Her notices the whistling tension from her mouth, and he washes
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The outline to her risqué shape, conjures up in Alessio’s mind the image of lust, dangling on the edge of canyon cliffs. As though he were the coyote to find the scrap of flesh, unknowing of the trap to bring him high. He would fall to bleed in her, a love that reaches miles across
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There is nothing so gentle,As the woman claiming to beThe certainty for herself.I offer condolence,And she falls on her handsAnd knees, to kiss the toes,Of a man who has allowed her to escapeFrom a pain, from a fate that was callingHer, to come away.From her eyes, rained many tears. Only a ruined soul, to this
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There is much to adore of a form so raw with flesh. She shows bravery by walking to a place where she may admire her form. As I peer through this window to see her, I may watch the breasts move upwards, as she steers such a form. I may see her cheeks with redness
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Your growing fragrance,Matches this room and its aromatic candles.And I have found it upon myselfWith my hands to claw at the flesh of thee,To tear and yank the burden of attire I see,To match the nakedness to the maker of me,Who is a demon that I cannot let flee.You have sweat glistening upon an arm,And
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I saw beneath lashes, masked by shadow,The beauty, of unfathomable lust,She drew a finger, in my direction,So that I’d lay, beneath ivory flesh. Never was there, an emotion so exquisite!As the one laid, upon my heart,Enough, so that she cared, to comfort,Its undying beat. She drew across, three fingers, to her bosom,So that three orbs,
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Q: As for your belief in a woman’s way to make herself attractive, are you able to explain why you believe it is always necessary? A: Attraction is like butter, when melted, not frozen, and the connection of love and devotion will make a man melt into a woman’s attractive appearance. Should a woman be
Modern Romanticism 