Where will I touch you the first time

if I ever was to meet you?

If desires build trails, we must follow

until the fires are extinguished

or we burn down to embers-

I can almost feel you,

drunk with crimson lips of wine

numbing all my senses

if with a kiss I could swallow

your entire universe

and the universe remembers

how a flicker of light burst into fire-

And how your breasts may feel

under my trembling hands

playful nipples enticing

my mouth to satisfy my wants,

my teeth wanting to bite

and slowly drink the rising

desperation of a moment-

Then let the black lace peel

from around your waist

to expose your moonlike skin

driving me insane with desire,

my mouth creating streams

of honey flowing down

to the river between your legs.

There is where I begin

to find a placed filled with dreams

of heavens,

blissful elixir of life

in your flow I will rise

and find the fountain of youth

where my thirst will drown-

And I will take you,

until galaxies collapse into the light

you have become,

entering every space inside

in a rhythmic dance,

drunk with the feel of skin on skin

on legs spread wide

to receive everything I am,

every dream, every wish

and every want-

So tell me,

where will I touch you the first time

if I ever was to meet you?




“I want to make you weep. I want all your pleasure, Iris, all your pain, everything you are. Come for me.” And she felt herself bow with the stark white bliss of her epiphany, the shattering realization of his words and his hands and his mouth. She was gasping for breath, shaking, lost, unseeing. The center of her being pulsing with pleasure.”

― Elizabeth Hoyt, Duke of Desire


A Wishful Fit


A Wishful Fit


I could easily fit in your arms

your small frame to embrace my weight

on your pelvis, every thrust

pushing deeper where my lust

dissipates in the warm of your eyes.

And so easy getting lost in your shape

where desires running wild will escape,

do not blame me for craving

when I see that your gaze

unintentionally invites me to dream,

when could easily fit in between

the soft cradle of legs and plumb thighs-


“I hunger for your sleek laugh and your hands the color of a furious harvest. I want to eat the sunbeams flaring in your beauty.”

― Pablo Neruda

A Place on Your Skin



A Place on Your Skin


I seek a place on your skin to hide desires

naked dreams shy from others to see

the folds around your neck in dire need

for lips to bury deep until they melt

and disappear becoming one-

A place between your breasts my lust

to keep away from prying eyes

when late at night it wakes and rise

on black smooth sheets to keep it yours

when yours become after a while

of hiding deep underneath your skin.

And thus a place between your thighs

to keep my secrets and my needs

secluded far from daily life

from all to feel the burning heat

your skin would shelter every night

and only you could safely ignite-

I seek a place on your skin to plant my seeds

of love and lust that hide between

the words I write,

and only you could safely touch

once tucked away beneath your skin-


“I loved you with texture. You loved with a softness. Texture brought detail, softness brought folds. Folds brought creases and creases had secrets.”

― Dominic Riccitello






When I look at you pass by

my emotions flutter wildly within its cage

waking up wants long ago tamed-

And I crave to feel your mountains and streams

by a stroke of time forged and shaped,

the rubbing of naked skin inflamed

smooth with lustrous sweat, and I

eager to ride my desires with no saddle

trotting gracefully when you straddle

a moment and stir up my dreams-


“I will bathe in your warmth ma petite. Roll you around me until my heart beats only for you. My breath will grow warm from your kiss.”

― Laurell K. Hamilton, Burnt Offerings

I Wish I Was


I Wish I Was


I wish I was sunlight

to lick the milk of your thighs

and taste secrets ‘tween your legs

Don’t you know?

I built my castles close to shore

and every time I want much more

you hold me captive in sky filled eyes

Release me woman in roaring waves

to catch my breath and softly say

I wish I was the cool soft rain

to wet the skin I so much crave

Don’t you know?

I built my castles close to shore

for you to wash them all away.


“Oh no. Don’t smile. You’ll kill me. I stop breathing when you smile.”

― Tessa Dare





Your gentle face fills me with possibilities-

It reminds me of sunsets and starry nights

of how fast my heart beats with a touch

of a hand or a look that incites

to want more-

And I attempt to remember the whys

I stopped seeking and eventually ignored

my far need to be love and the want

running deep in my veins-

Then I look at your face and your eyes

make me wish I could have it return

all my longing, somewhere it remains

buried asleep to be awaken

to the heat of your touch

that now burns-


Wasted Passion



Wasted Passion


Such a waste this passion swimming underneath

like falling trees with no one to hear

or roaring waves of a lonely beach

with no footprints to wash away,

no hearts to steal-

And words alone will soon decay

to leave remnants of long gone days

like muddy prints on an empty house

my passion stays

deep underneath, sometimes aroused

by passing flings that bring no joy-

Such a waste this passion burning underneath

with no one to tend a dying fire

and revive the flame,

like stone cold tomb without a name

my passion lies right underneath

a dying breath of gone desires

Such a waste this passion sleeping underneath-



“What Reason weaves, by Passion is undone.”

― Alexander Pope