spit, mixed with dirt – muddy words flow
I still smell his scent on my sheets
Though it’s been long since he left my bed
Lifting his pillow to my face
I am reminded of our last night together
How he clung to me like a man possessed
His whispers in my ear
Of need and desire
Hands crushing and grasping and pinching
Squeezing my soft flesh
Caressing my curves
Stroking my wet folds
Teeth scraping and nipping and biting
His breath coming in starts and gasps
Nails scratching down, down, deeper
How he bit and licked and sucked
His moans evermore increasing
Longing evident
‘Come here?’ he asked rather than demanded
Pressed against him, my back to his chest
How could I get any closer?
His touches became more insistent
Desperate
I sat up, my back to him
Letting him view my naked body
My hands traced my soft edges
Groaning, he gripped my hip
Pulling me to him
As I straddled his unrelenting body
Joining in the sacred dance
Two lovers uniting
His face alight with passion
I wondered what he saw in me
Why I mattered so much in that moment
It was as if he knew he needed
To leave a part of himself with me
His very essence
Spread over me, through me, inside me
And in the morning when he was gone
I was left alone again
Just myself, my thoughts, and his scent
A vivid reminder of nights long past
An ache which remained long after
tara caribou | ©️2019
Art Consignments in Ninilchik, Alaska
Apologies for my apologies
Poetry by Charles Joseph
We Survived and Arrived - Now as Warriors We Thrive
Writer and Artist
a collection of short poetry from an autistic mind
Poetry, Photography, and Thoughts
The Lies in the Skies Exposed
"When I am writing, I am trying to find out who I am..." --Maya Angelou
Welcome to my tiny corner of the universe filled with poems that I have written.
Author | Freelance Writer | Blogger
livingforthemoon
Butterwell's Blog
... from a silent space
Passionate and sad!
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Thank you.
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Subtly erotic ❤
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Thank you.
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“I wondered what he saw in me
Why I mattered so much in that moment”
I think we too often focus on the “why” of things. But, that is hard to get away from doing. This was both a very erotic and very thought provoking piece.
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You nailed it, AC. That was the whole point, I think, of why I wrote this. Who am I? Nobody, really. Yet sometimes I matter to others, although I’d say usually not. So in those cases that I do…. why??
Thanks for reading.
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To know you are there
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If you don’t know why you matter to me or anyone else, I’ll never be able to explain it either.
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You’re probably right.
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If only I could matter to you…
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