Today was the day, she’s escaping this dying town with its decaying despair. She raced down the cracked porch steps and into her rusted car. Revving the old engine, she peeled out of the long gravel driveway, kicking up gravel and long-forgotten dreams.
He is no innocent, but neither am I.
His touch makes me shiver and all the right places quiver.
I admit, I’m guilty of wanting to drink in his sins like a belly of gin.
Leaving me drunk on his flesh and tranquil in our debauchery.
She’s Living Art Reckless brushstrokes of joy and terror
Irrational curves of light and dark
Carved from her bits of paradise and pandemonium
She’s a chaotic masterpiece
He’s her decadent dessert
Honeyed lips made for kissing, licking, and laving
A broad back for greedy, hungry hands
Stong thighs to savor, encase and ride
Her ravenous craving satisfied
Insanity lives in us
Will you let it spill out with a peel of wild laughter or have it trickle from your lips with a shy smile? Maybe you’ll keep it locked up, letting it dance around in your quiet fantasies. Or perhaps, you’ll free it to spread delightful and dreadful chaos.
Let our desire smolder
Over hours and days
Through words and kisses
Playful swats and hot touches
Until the slow burn becomes an inferno
Burning away all our chains of restraint
Everything frightened the little girl, but she was the bravest person I knew. With a pounding heart and shaking limb, she tackled and beat all her fears into submission becoming a strong and capable woman. Never needing a hero because she became her own.
His life was about as interesting as the static flickering on her TV; gray, unchanging. An indistinguishable and uninteresting blur. It was time to change to the channel. Hell, time to throw out the TV and his life. Exchange it for a different one.
She’s a wild ride
Like a sugar high
I slid a hand up her thigh
And kiss my heart goodbye
The heart has two sides, and they’re hungry
The left is light warmth that craves hope, laughter, and love
The right is dark shadows that feast on resentments, rage, and spite
Which side you feed is your choice