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These Walls


These walls

Pulse with intention



Wondrous fever dreaming

Borne into being

Stroked by my

Rough, gentle fingers

Sheets clenched in your fists

Your eyes blaze

Divine under my attentions

No prohibition beyond my command

Supine as you become full, my vessel

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Pleasure’s Ironies

What you’ve kept
Was apparent
In the anticipation
That made itself
Known in each
I quietly conquer
You and you surrendered
Offering your wrists
To better fit
Their restraints
And how you
Wish to be handled
Wrestled with
To see my primal
Want unleashed
To be tested
Taken with rough
Hands pinning you
To the mattress
To take the weight
Of my desire and
In doing so
To take flight
Alive to the irony
That bound and obedient
You’ve never felt so free
Exposed and open
A playful shudder
And how I fill you
Makes you blush in
Don’t imagine this
In my rough bear voice
And all that goes unsaid
Better translated into
A touch that has an aftermath
You’ll see in the mirror


The Face You Would Wear

It is never the make up,
Or the hair that you’ve spent hours on,
In the service of spontaneity,
It’s not the strength in your arms,
As I imagine, in hungry moments,
Wrapped around me,
It’s the intelligent light in your eyes,
A hunger that knows when to curtsey but wants to be let out,
Shivering at how the air would feel,
If it touched hungry skin,
That’s what I look for in you,
The promise that, if I touch you, taste you in the right way,
I could hear you speak in tongues,
Make fists with the sheets,
See the Kali come to play,
Make her wear your face,
As you would wear mine