My bed is still warm

When the next body rolls in

But I'm not

I'm numb

Until,

Your body

- Or his -

- Or hers -

Envelopes mine

And I can breathe

Because

I am consumed

I am part of you,

Of someone that lives

That moves

That loves

I am

I was

I will be

Because I'm not apart

Just a part

Of something

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Try hard to push through
Try to bring back the new.
But along comes guilt and shame.
But they won't stop playing their game.

Relationship seems at risk
Relationship seems so brisk.
Maybe it's all in my head
Maybe it's already dead.

Intimacy is more than sex
Intimacy's more of a reflex.
But I need to have honesty
But the one closed off is really me.

Trauma stops any progress
Trau...

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This is how messed up it was...

Last night, my husband woke up and was cuddling me, then touching me, then we both were wide awake in intimacy. It was beautiful. It always is.

Then after, the doubt creeped in.

Chris lied. Chris always lied. I would wake up in the middle of the night to him touching himself to pictures on the internet. Once I woke up and he was staring at pictures of a wom...

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Desperate for your mind to be intertwined with mine,

I writhe and thrash into your seductions.

By being intimate we are lying:

pretending to have reached a resolution

-when really all I can feel is acute stinging

of my body and emotions.

Without engaging your feelings,

all I feel is friction;

down: your sciroccian winds are rasping

my spirit and global expectations.

A...

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Out of focus there is nothing.

But he needles his way in.

And his warmth spreads,

and his essence flows and ebbs

in my mind and in my smile and in my bed.

He’s the cerebrospinal fluid

that floods my skull,

and all my cracks until I’m full.

Finally: a flash of his face and flesh;

vivid, quick, and then death.

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The poetry is pretty perhaps,

And some may appreciate the aesthetics

While being put off by the messiness

Of the content, preferring a tidy theme.

And maybe you could clean it up

A bit to avoid making the prigs uncomfortable.

Say something about flowers by the seaside,

For example, and let us forget people have sex.

And let’s forget about messy conflict

In relationships,...

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My love for you wells up from

Within

A feeling indescript

A warmth rising from the heart

A rush of oxytocin through the

Veins

Immediate and pressing

Without urgency or smothering

Felt from my legs to my

Head

And in every chakra the yoga-doers tell us of

From the crown above my head

To the root they speak of in awkward Puritanical tones

Tones we do not need, m...

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British Passion

They meshed their sexual organs

in a frenzied bout of passion

pumping, grinding, panting

'til they had their daily ration

The sight was truly wondrous

and fearsome to behold

it's something done by lovers,

at least that is what I'm told

There was no inhibition

they had stripped down to the core

with every piece of clothing

strewn across ...

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Is there sex after death ?

A fascinating concept

But let's keep the topic formal

Are we talking Necrophilia

Or something Paranormal ?

If you intimate the former

I must caution self-restraint

It's illegal in this country

And I don't know where it ain't

But if you mean the latter

I submit this brief synopsis:

The outcome could be mutual

Between cons...

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