we would become lost in one another –
not as something to be subsumed,
but as lovers in profuse synchrony.
If this was losing myself,
in you I would lose myself in each lifetime.
Your embrace welcomed me warmly
and from the moment I pressed to you,
hands cradling the small of your back
while arms enfolded around my copious curves,
you resembled the familiars of a home.
I was quiet then, as though comfort
were wrapped in lace, where it seeped
through in pieces but needed you to
delicately unwrap its brilliant centre.
The nascent of our physical energies
was a tenderer climb than most,
as I was averted eyes and nerves
an agony of caffeinated jitters before,
then easing to temperate flirtations and touch.
I wondered if the anxieties that claimed
the urgency that throbbed through my racing heart
was also an enduring curse for you to bear,
when you lingered slightly away from me.
But, you must have sensed it or seen
the way I swayed on nervous feet,
as you volunteered that the distance
was as you frenziedly yearned to kiss me
but did not want to hurry or make me self-conscious.
I mumbled some semblance of encouragement, then.
You moved to clasp my face in your hands
and brought my shy eyes to meet yours –
where you shimmered with benevolence and beauty
and irradiant galaxies streamed through your brilliant blue.
You looked at me like I was more than this skin
like I was more than a sack of flesh and bones,
greater than a mere vessel for consumption
that one could fuck, and then carelessly discard.
We lingered a moment, tarried in the familiar,
where bodies still simply craved to meet, and
it was a split second played out in eternities,
that I’ll carry that with me for the rest of my days.
Your lips were rich with resonant tenderness
when they first met and pressed to mine,
and we breathed but for a moment
before reaching to taste the magnetism
that rolled from our rhythmic tongues.
I could swear our kiss was imparted from the heavens themselves.
I became everything giddy then and
a tune of thunderclaps sang in my bones
conduits for the storm that would play
every echo of our spellbinding collision.
Gods know I could relive that instant
designed to haunt for eternities
and it would still not be long enough to inscribe me
with the exhilaration I tasted with your kiss.
I should tell you, for it took a great deal of restraint,
you could have had all of me in that moment.
But I was drawn to the memory of you saying
you wanted to gently coax my inner temptress
to calmly summon my goddess into full bloom.
She was measured in her emergence, and
In the moment I was bursting of sorrows for my prudence,
but in this aftermath I am gratified by our unhurried inevitability.
We sat a while then, and though less quiet
I still brimmed, with a motionless force –
a bubble of overwhelm that spilled through
in the tumbling of stories that we divulged.
I liked that you let me find myself, in the way I held your hand,
while my fingertips quietly invited you to touch me and
yours frolicked ceaselessly over shivering gooseflesh,
while you patiently enticed me to dance.
When I turned away from you to shield my glowing face
and you stood behind me, to hold me, breathe me in,
as your breath alone preyed on my sensitivities…
I knew then that you would consume me.
Passion emanated from your lips as they
made landings on the expanse of my skin,
teeth preying along delicate planes as
hungry imprints became one with my carotid beat
and you clasped my neck as you pressed to me.
You had warned me of how you would help me lose myself.
With your unfathomably fervent kiss
you stirred such aches I had long ignored.
With your grasp exposing my vulnerabilities
I learned to exist purely in that one sliver of time,
forgetting who and where I was in that instant.
I’m sure you knew, too, for your hips pushed into me
and I felt you, abundant with the desire you had to unfurl me.
We retreated to safer spaces then, where you began to unwrap me.
The secrets you confessed to my body,
as you kissed me from head to toe,
will long be memorised by the skin.
The serenity you created in moments of my disquiet
is something I’ll never stop thanking you for.
How you lay atop me, heart to heart, and
as you caressed and held and kissed my breasts
I’m sure you felt me tremble with fear,
but you did not recoil from me as others had
in their states of maternal nurturance.
Or how difficult it was for me,
when you confessed your desperate hunger to taste me
and I choked down my fears and insecurities
of how past lovers had rarely feasted on honey,
as though I was defective and unworthy of indulgence.
Such cruelties had tarnished me,
and I was festering of open wounds and
scars that lingered in my heart
while you were kindness licking at my skin
pleading me to give myself to this awakening anew.
I began to give myself to you.
I was cascaded by pleasure and emotion
in the moment you introduced yourself to me
as your tongue parted my glossy folds,
to fill yourself with the moistness
nature-made between silken thighs.
You dipped a single finger into sin
and once you knew I had flowered to you,
another, but with a gravity of touch
that would truly make me bloom.
It wasn’t long before my body quaked,
limbs shuddering a relentless commendation.
Though I was full of shadow and monsters for
all the moments I’d been made to feel undeserving,
I crested then, gently, but yieldingly to you,
and from my throat spilled a chorus of whimpers
and broken hums that I knew, in me began to heal.
I pulled you up to me then,
so that I could breathe you in…
Kiss your lips a sheen of my liquid lust
and remember how you tasted of me.
You gazed upon me as I lay breathless, panting
and gasping for breath as though you had stolen
the very air from my needy lungs
and breathe life into my soulful core instead.
You told me you liked the way I taste,
and I think I might have believed you.
For there is fathomless beauty in your voice
akin to tomorrows and evermore,
a soft, mellifluous silk, in which whispers
caused every ache in me to intensify.
You held me and told me you expected no more,
that you only wanted what I would give freely to you.
I should tell you, for it took a great deal of restraint,
I wanted everything in that moment.
But it touched me when you so warmly professed that,
you wanted to be Jacques Costeau to my fathomless depths,
to explore me, to marvel at the ceaseless wonders and secrets I held,
so when I gifted you the experience of this imperfectly human vessel,
that it would be with enthusiasm, and without reserve.
In the moment I was bursting of sorrows for my prudence, but
in this aftermath I am gratified by our slow inevitability.
We lay a while entangled,
full of playfulness and laughter.
we spoke of family, lovers, children,
of heartaches, mistakes and growth.
We were naught but inchoate romance,
and making utterances of hope for forever.
You sat back turned on me, and it seemed
to evoke the wild woman whom lay dormant in me
and I lost myself in touching you, mouthing at your skin.
Oh, how I desired to map your topography,
watch how you would ignite in response to my touch
elicit the volcanic heat that smouldered in you for me.
Lips grazed and stroked your neck,
as you whimpered ‘neath my caress,
and as I gently kissed and nibbled your ear lobes
alongside a breathy tease of heat…
“That, will get you fucked.”
I straddled the precipice then,
between things sweet, or of sins,
coquettish demoiselle or sultry provocateur.
We fell together once more with greed.
I had been conscious of my abundance
voluminous flesh and curves,
but when you collapsed into me
our hands amassed of grasped skin
pleading silently for us to crash,
and it felt like our bodies fit perfectly.
I was full of curious hesitations,
but all my worries had fallen away,
just as you had asked of me,
and I knew I wanted you then.
To taste you, feel you pulsing against my tongue and
delight in the joy it would bring me to pleasure you,
or cradle you inside the warmth of my velvety depths
where we would symbolically merge as one.
I’ll never forget the moment you pierced me,
gently at first, as I tenderly welcomed you,
before impaling hardened flesh to lie ensconced
by the slickness and warmth of my gravity pulling you in.
How in an instant I knew that having
been touched and cherished by you
would ruin lovemaking for me,
where you were the glittering needlepoint sky
and everything else was no more than shrivel and decay.
When you moved inside of me, our blue eyes locked,
there were snapshots of rainbows splintering on the horizon.
You looked at me like I was more than this skin
as though I were a fucking hurricane,
who had decimated your ecosphere
and you were left with nothing, but to call me your home.
And when you whispered,
“I could fuck you for hours,”
I think I might have believed you.
For you are always a splendid timbre
akin to tomorrows and evermore,
honeyed melodies of which whispers
only deepened every boom in my core.
I could rake nails over you for eons, legs pulling you into me, entire.
I loved how you encouraged me to surrender and
how we were everything passion and synergy then,
how I asked you to deliver me the most divine signature,
to mark me in my deepest recesses and gift your energy to me.
Splintered breaths were all that
remained between cascading hums
as bodies began to quiver and quake.
While we lay dishevelled, dripping with dew, inhaling
each other and the sweetened ambrosia of our sex…
how I felt so adrift, floating otherworldly
and there are no metres to quantify
how being with you transcended physical realms.
Gods know I hoped you felt what I did with some reciprocity.
You once asked me if I thought
we would become lost in one another
not as something to subsumed,
but as lovers in profuse synchrony.
If this was losing myself,
in you I would lose myself in each lifetime.
You once proposed that to be with me,
when I shined without trepidation
and enjoyed without self-consciousness,
would be heart stoppingly beautiful.
I hope I didn’t disappoint you then…
as in the primal remnant aftermaths
of such intensity, all I have to say, is this.
If this was intimacy, in its infancy,
what cataclysmic ruin would we create in its growth?
