Lying in bed on a rainy Sunday afternoon

the clouds forming patterns that beckon to my memories

that call to my longing spirit

The rhythmic sounds of the raindrops against the glass evoking

melodic echoes of a long-forgotten tune

by some fruit and spice duo from before I was born

thrumming through my daydreaming mind

And I think of You.

 

You, filling my every sense with your presence

As surely as I can feel the sand between my toes

caressing my feet

massaging and smoothing away the callouses

born of hard wear and

a disturbingly lengthy pattern of

lack of self-care

I can feel the heat of your body

and the flowing golden liquid sunshine of your love

coating my soul

smoothing the rough edges

filling in the cracks

gathering the myriad broken bits

carefully and tenderly securing the fault lines

jagged and unstable from years of neglect

forming them into one semblance

a reasonable facsimile of

a whole healthy soul

here, in your arms

enveloped in safety and comfort

secure in the knowledge that

the big bad world, those devils named reality

can't reach me here

in the protection of your embrace.

 

A chill of longing traverses my spine

as I can almost feel your fingernails

gently dancing up my back

to the nape of my neck

Long, ridiculously skilled fingers

wrapping around a lock of too short hair

cut so for reasons unclear in this moment

a desire for willful self-expression

or perhaps an overabundance of apathy

an overwhelming lack of give a shit

or just the presence of mind to know

to be aware

that it didn't matter one iota

how long or short my hair was

No one cared.

 

A gentle tug, urging my head back

my chin up

my eyes to gaze into yours

my lips, instantly moist and open

as a soft gasp of pleasure escapes

Eyes slide shut for an all too brief moment

that seems to span a decade

reliving memory after glorious memory

of your hands tangled in my hair

my lips falling open at your

command, at your

request, at my

desire, all the same

my lips closing around your flesh

teeth gently scraping

tongue lovingly caressing

dancing over your silken skin

like a prima ballerina on ice

a perilously dangerous routine

pushing the limits of

her skill, her body,

muscles straining nearly to the breaking point

in this one pivotal dance

this one series of steps

at once artistically divine

and viscerally evocative

demanding perfection

with every movement

as her whole body starts to sway

to move over the ice

she is as one with the ice

one unit, one being, moving together

leader and follower, impossible to discern

the difference

only able to enjoy the dance

surrender to the hypnotic wonder of the moment

every moment

every leading touch

every urging sound

every demanding motion

every willing submission

captured in that one dance

that one momentary tug

of your fingers in my hair.

 

My eyes flutter open to gaze upon

the brilliance of your face

the slight smirk of knowing on your lips

the lambent echo of desire evident in your eyes

the rush of power apparent in the flaring of your nostrils

the slight, sharp intake of your breath

the low rumble I can feel in your chest

that long dreamed of sound of approval

of burgeoning desire

of growing satisfaction

of gathering darkness

longing to be expressed

in the forceful touches

of your hands on my body

moving me how, when, and where You will

the deliciously painful touches

of leather on flesh

of skin on skin

of teeth on flesh

of nails raking over pristine pink tenderness

The deliriously heady sight

of tears streaking down blood infused cheeks

expressing not sadness, but satisfaction

as the pain pushes you beyond your limits

as His pleasure urges you on

as yours does Him.

 

My hands find their way to your chest

fingers digging into your flesh

in an effort to ensure myself

that you are really here

needing to feel the physical proof

of your much longed for presence

Your lips, softly touching my forehead

my eyes slide closed again

the corners of my mouth lifting

in a soft smile, a peaceful sigh of pure pleasure

breathed against your throat

as the memories once again become visible

wavering, glistening, like coins

at the bottom of a wishing well

viewed through the quivering water of years

the light catching the thousands of wishes

long forgotten hopes

dreams and fantasies lost to the hands of time

each memory of your lips on my skin

flashing by in an instant

as the light flashes over the coins

every kiss a wish

every wish a dream

every dream a potential reality

realized in this moment

in this reunion

In the possibility of this perfect second of time

with your lips pressed to my forehead

Nothing else exists

The world consists of You and I

and the ocean breezes caressing our skin

the goosebumps raised from the pleasure

of the contact as much as the chill in the air

The future is ours

The power to write our story

To re-write our story

to make it better

to find our happily ever after

The potential of that moment

that one soft, gentle forehead kiss

That instant in time

Progressing only when I raise my lips

to your ear and softly whisper one word

a single plea

“Come...”