Thursday, April 26, 2007

Tired ramblings and confessions of love.

The day's stres seeps from my bones. I am tired. I am overemotional.

I long to melt into you. To take in your heat. Bodies meld together. As if they are one - no beginning, no end. Just us.

I want to hear you speak. Your voice a soothing balm on my frayed nerves.

Your hands-warm on my skin- melting me. I feel like I may crack if you leave me here alone.

I wish it were enough. That I were enough. That I could love you as you love me- as I long for you-me-us to love.

I love you. Anyhow.

But we are not enough. I must fill myself up before I can truely let you in.

This has been my confession (abridged version).

I pray it gives me peace.

Friday, April 06, 2007

A dream

He was laying in bed when she entered the room. His eyes were open, looking at the door. He smiled when he saw her. She closed the door behind her and turned off the overhead light. The lamp on the night stand shone an orange glow through out the lower half of the room.

She leaned over him and smoothed the blankets covering him. She pressed her lips gently to his forehead. "Sweet dreams."

He grabbed her upper arm and held her. She almost lost her balance as she tried to free herself. "I don't want just dreams."


He raised his head and kissed her. "Stay."

She returned his kiss. Her lips parted, her tongue slipping out, lapping at him. Suddenly she pulled away. "I shouldn't."

He released his grip on her arms, letting her move to standing. "But you want to."

They shared a smile and she leaned over him again. She kissed him deeply, moving her body over his.

He peeled off her clothes. Caressing and tasting her naked skin.

She shivered under his touch. Her hands roaming the expanse of his body.

His hands tentatively caressed between her legs. His fingers sliding along the outer lips, dipping into the inner wetness within the folds.

He moved his body over hers.

She spread her legs, opening to him easily. He slipped into her as she waited.

Her body arched to meet his with each thrust. Tempo and friction building between them.

Suddenly he leaned over and gave a short, sharp cry, into her ear. His body stiffened then relaxed into her. Then he slumped over her, still breathing in her ear.

"I'm sorry," he said. "You didn't ..."

"Don't be sorry."

"but .."

"No. It's my gift to you."

What do you think dear readers: is this piece better titled: 'Stay' or 'The Gift'? Let me know please. This one came from a dream. A short daydream. There may be a longer version.