Tuesday, 28 October 2014


With motives dark
a touch so delicate
your words inflict bruising with such eloquence.
It’s you.
You who peals the bells that resonate beneath my skin
whose warm praise wraps round my heart
rice paper thin.
In you.
In you the landscape of my desire is written
scrawled in your hand.
Each shift of weight, each ripple
every breath.
The shuddering ones and the quiet.
As I retreat, freefalling head first into fantasy
or lunge forward, with scant regard into life unbridled
You have been the anchor.
That which keeps me moored.
Though tides and wakes relentless break upon my shores
and swirl forebodingly around the sun
it’s this desire for you that crests
forever out of reach
but always in my view.
and more.



Cheeky Minx said...

As I sit here with your words now etched upon my skin, I fear my own expression lacking, wanting, my utterance taken clear away by the sheer erotic beauty and depth of your poetry.

And that image – the glimpse of your face and masculine body, her sensuous curves reflected in the mirror, the moment of fusion captured with a seductive and visceral honesty.

Stunning, bhp. Absolutely stunning...

Ella said...

Mirror, mirror on the wall ....

Nice pose, Fair One.

(As a side note, maybe you should consider going as Jesus for Halloween?)

both.hands.please said...

Cheeky Minx.. One of the myriad things you most certainly will never lack, is expression. Infact you are it's supreme master, in my eyes. And your praise the perfect fillip for mine. Now, if I may etch a little deeper..

And Ella.. The Jesus idea I have done once before.. With full beard & thorny crown & blood soaked cloth. Breaking bread with you however, would be far more of a treat..

You two treat me so damn well. Through thick and thin. I thank you.