Full Moon Fragmentations

Also on Eclectic Unconfined

once crisp cotton sheets

tumbled on the floor

wisps of dreams

gleams

hands in my hair

teeth on my shoulder

the press of hips

driving against thighs

sighs

this welcome weight

satin sated flesh

anise spiced whispers

fierceness tempered

drowsy sweet caress

moonlight on ivory

we melt together

rest

~ kei
30 August 2015

Coupled sheets

You Are The Answer

who is this sleeping angel in my bed
what sweet thoughts curve your lips
where do your dreams take you my love
why do I find the urge to kiss you irresistible
when morning light illuminates you vulnerability
how could I not press my lover’s advantage

… to my every question

~ kei
24 July 2015

Shivers Sleeping Beauty

Reposted from Eclectic Unconfined (18+)

Strings ‘N Things

It seems my Achilles tendon is wrapped round my heart-strings
And those ties that bind, how they clip my wings

Ribbons and bows to tie up pretty things
Tourniquets stem the flow but the razor blade still stings

A hangman’s noose, a Gordian Knot
Hobbled by your indifference
What you wove and then
Forgot…

~ kei
12 June 2015
Tied up in you

Do You?

Do you feel it?

Do your fingertips tingle with the memory of caressing my skin?

Do your hands tremble with desire to mould and squeeze every inch of my body to your own?

Do your arms reach for me during thunderstorms or when the scent of jasmine is on the wind?

Does your body ache with desire for the phantom pressure of my back cradled against your chest?

Do you fall asleep sated and at peace, holding onto the ghostly contours that are what you still own of me?

Then don’t keep me waiting any longer…

~ kei
28 May 2015

Do You?

Perversity In Poetry

I’ve tried to write this so many times, fingers are willing but the mind declines

To open up this locked place inside of me, seems to be the height of perversity

Laid bare once again, will I fall apart? Can I endure the pain of my own beating heart?

Words tease my thoughts in fragments, images torture my body in their completeness

The unfairness of it all assails me again, that even in “death” you can transcend

My every wall, my anger, tears, angry fists; with just your gentle eyes, a brush of kiss

Don’t do it! Don’t make me feel! I DO NOT WANT TO FEEL!!

I have chosen to be frozen. I choose to not speak the words. I don’t speak them, I don’t write them anymore. My eyes skitter away from them in the works of others. I have had success in chasing them from my thoughts and from my memories. Frozen. Unfeeling.

Safe in this cocoon of pseudo-chastity. Safe in euphemisms and bland phrases of sanitized poetry.
Safe.
At least until this morning, when I woke and you were next to me.

I did not give you permission to invade my home, my heart, my head and I’m quite certain that I let you know you’re not welcome in my bed. Poetry… More poetry… My Wildman Poet is here with me.

You speak my body in words it knows and I feel reserve melting… the words… dance on the tip of my tongue… dare I write them here to be seen by anyone?

How perfectly ridiculous, how utterly perverse
That my Muse is ever with me, in “death” still haunts my every verse

Cradled in your arms, the warmth of your breath on my neck. One big hand drapes my body and cups my breast. Your thighs hug the back of mine, cold from the night air still, your semi gently insisting, warming… this body is melting… from the inside out… I warm as quickly as ever. Even in sleep, I’m amazed that the tickle of your beard at the back of my neck is so soft… and thoughts explode at contrasts of heat and cold, softness and strength… liquid silk and your tongue… I… don’t… want… to… feel… but I do. How you marvel at my small feet and worship the backs of my knees. How you bend me to your will and my only coherent word is “please”.

My hands and fingers know every angle of you, your broad shoulders, slim hips, the slick feel of our mingled sweat on your belly and thighs… do that again… that sound… that growl… when I pull your hair and catch your lip in my teeth… bourbon and Marlboros… liquid courage… Say my name… like that… like a cry… a command… a sigh. Handle me, make me, take me… and this… just this… my arse pressed against your hips… the sweetest slip… my hands pinned in yours… hours… hours… Passion, power, a battle fought and lost and I revel in my relinquishing… A raging volcano manifested in the arctic wasteland that was my body scant hours ago. Rescued from the Pompeiian stone that enveloped me when you went away… finally falling, drifting… back to sleep.

Waking to stare at this wraith on my pillow. The curve of your lip, the scent of you on my skin, your dark hair in tousled waves on my pillow. A wraith, a ghost and yet not… I can taste the salty spill of you in my mouth still and I am sore and spent, sated.

A willing prisoner to the memory of

You.

~ kei
8 April 2015

Originally posted on “Eclectic Unconfined”