| Things Packed Away | |||||||||||||||||
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Too Long Unkissed To long unkissed a woman's lips hunger for the taste that she has missed the passion locked inside her eyes betray an emptiness inside Too long untouched her body craves two arms to hold her near reviving human wants she feels the need to be embraced in ways she can not hold herself Too long unloved an ache deep in her heart reveals smoldering embers of desire they fuel a warming hearth that seeks a mantle to ignite her lamp Too long denied she feels the the sensual pain that makes her whole it slowly warms the coldness that chills her human need just to be kissed | ||||||||||||||||
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Hidden and Forbidden Her cotton gown is armor against her daytime enemy. She shares the bed as a shaky truce renews itself each night. Turned backs mark boundaries of a no man's land where open warfare remains forbidden. The bedroom is the last frontier of crumbling passions long ago. The soft down of the comforter isolates her from the focus of her unhappiness. Her mind replays shots of misery fired at her heart. "I won't eat this; you spend too much; lose weight; can't you clean up; leave me alone." She reacts by simply shielding herself from the despair. She wonders why she will not parry each attack, wielding her own sword of imperfection. She drift to her dreams, her body retreats to fantasy to escape the unhappiness of her life. He comes to her, this smiling face. His joy at just her presence awaken the giving siren she remains. She giggles girlishly, a seductive smile appears on her face as she shares secrets and revels in his attention. She returns his tenderness with rising passions of her own. His touch is always welcome but never the same. Sometimes it has a freshness which carries her back to her time of innocence. Sometimes the skills of her best lovers seem to be embodied in each touch she relishes in the night. Then there are the times she readily surrenders to his strength and dominance. This lover of her dreams now owns the forbidden fruits her husband somehow lost. | Sad realities | ||||||||||||||||
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| And dreams |
Mama Feels It Mama feels it a need to elevate beyond the dour seriousness that shapes her day extra moments in the shower washing hair so clean it couldn't need it now a hand lathered well with soap touches an ache and soothes her troubled soul Mama feels it a time in bed alone the dark sounds of her quiet solitude a satin tie from favorite robe pulled tightly up between her full and trembling thighs Mama feels it the need to cool her passion with cubes of ice but not to chill desire freezing trails of dripping liquid slowly moving down her body to meltdown point Mama feels it alone in traffic when a favorite song comes on the radio contracting and releasing hard draws focus to intense and too familiar needs Mama feels it taking time behind closed doors when no pill or cigarette will really do a nightstand drawer gives up its contents as she satisfies her rocking body in shuddering delight Mama feels it the tension drained from weary eyes and strength and peace returned no prayer or man or sister chat but moments taken in sensual freedom restore her smile | ||||||||||||||||
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