as it happened
you were the one to
implode me
they say we never learn
but now i know
to always let the
sweet syrupy juices
pool and gather
marinate in their sugary goodness
be present
feel gratitude for each moment
of messy love
that we have.
when your skin touches my skin
warmth floods my heart
and body
when your fingers
interlace
with mine…
my defenses are overcome
and i am
shocked
at the depth
the untouched places inside me
that i feel you moving into
[quote from wikipedia]
La petite mort, French for “the little death”, is an idiom and euphemism for orgasm. This term has generally been interpreted to describe the post-orgasmic state of unconsciousness that some people have after having some sexual experiences.
More widely, it can refer to the spiritual release that comes with orgasm or to a short period of melancholy or transcendence as a result of the expenditure of the “life force,” the feeling which is caused by the release of oxytocin in the brain after the occurrence of orgasm.
i have been captivated by this term/phrasing for orgasm since i first learned of it. i think this is so perfectly on point… capturing the complexity of the varying emotions that give meaning to our unique experience of orgasm… the seemingly impossible combination of utter loss and ecstasy that i feel each time i come.
trembling over my skin
coursing through my blood
my cries quivering, hovering…
you send rushes of sensation
up and down my spine
my body yearns, demands to burst out of its casings
releasing this vast ocean of energy,
soaring through the sky…
then laying softly, quietly
skin against skin
our breath intermingling
floating in the creative wonder
of this love
this video is a lovely fantasy vision. beyoncé’s latest video album brings up sexuality in many different ways, and i was immediately in love. in one of her videos discussing making “partition” she talks about her experience turning one of her fantasies into a video, how it felt pushing her limits of expressing her sexuality publicly. i think it takes a lot of courage, and i think b did it with a lot of grace and beauty.
well done, bey. <3
[youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pZ12_E5R3qc&w=560&h=315])
vulnerability is frightening. the feelings of allowing and letting go that are necessary preludes to giving in to vulnerability feel counter-cultural. letting go means anything might happen. it involves trusting ourselves and holding space for anything that arises. we are afraid of our own shadows, what so-called dark desires and impulses might lie beneath our shiny veneers.
each time i post on this blog i feel afraid. even posting anonymously, i feel fears of rejection, old self-shaming responses, massive questioning of putting my raw words out on the internet for anyone and the nsa to read, fear of being a “bad” writer, of being laughed at… of being as insignificant and silly as my inner critic has always told me i am.
fuck it. i dare greatly now. i work each day to be gently courageous in all i do. to take myself seriously enough to put my words out, and with enough humor and self-love to accept my imperfections as part of the beauty of who i am, to love and take pride in all my creative output, silly and insignificant though it may sometimes be.
dare greatly today. how can we better celebrate and show our gratitude for this amazing adventure of life?
by the time your fingers
slide through the hair at the
nape of my neck
and your lips have
kissed my pulse
i am a puddle
of wetness and
desire
i am at your mercy.
a compelling vision forward…
[ted id=1909]
i want to devour you
i want every part of you to vibrate within
all the spaces inside of me
that have been waiting
for you
i want to scream out my joy
at being here with you
and how easy
and alive
i feel
i want to touch every moment of you
make you feel encompassed
held
by my love
i want to burrow inside you
into the spaces
no one else
remembered
to go
she went by lexi at the temptress temple, and her booth was the last one in the hallway lined with black-doored booths. by the time clients’ eyes fell upon her silky wheat colored hair they found themselves ensnared in the depths of her gaze, steady and piercing. they were stripped bare in front of her, and they stepped forward in fascination, closing the door to the outside world and giving themselves to lexi’s even gaze and captivating, graceful movements.
the day marco walked into her line of view was the first time lexi’s gaze faltered. it was a bitterly cold night, and she blinked a few times at the bundled up gentleman before her, before breaking into a slow, seductively familiar smile. he smiled back, slowly walking toward her, and stepped into her booth, shutting the door behind him without breaking their eye contact. he sat down in the leather chair that stood in front of the plexiglass window lexi sat behind. her legs were crossed and she was slowly playing with her long hair. he picked up the phone receiver as the same time she did, bringing it to his ear with a sly grin on his face that belied the guardedness in his eyes.
“fancy meeting you here… if you feel so inclined, I’d like to have your most exquisite show” he said, with a knowing smile.
(to be continued)
your scent is my undoing
hours after you’ve left
it still sits,
heavy and sweet
on my skin
your hand impressions
more than
just a memory