This is a repost from almost a year ago. Same sensual ease exists but the perspective sees the tarnished truth; the blurred lines where he was solid and strong.- Ret
The heavy sleepy scent in your hair finds me first.
Then your cheek, warm and still searching for return to your pillow presses to mine.
Slumber falls away though your mouth hasn’t yet crossed the rim of your favorite coffee mug.
The dew wets my toes. The announcement of a new day begs for our attention. The dogs are running in the yard, all silliness and play, muzzles throwing bones to the trees.
But I feel only the length of your arms circling my waist, your body asking to take mine.
You seek only the curve of my hip and the tender swelling of my interest.
You have silently arrived, unpretentious and kissing my neck, yours an unsung movement overlooked by poets and those who worship the rise of the sun.
Though I am surprised at your embrace I immediately feel at ease and lean back, settling into the lines of your form.
My lips yield to yours. And again.
And yet Again.
We sway together, murmurs of good morning exchange between kisses.
My back presses to your chest and I know you have me- solid and strong.
Your presence fills me with longing- for a hundred days of sunrises and the smallest measure of shared spaces.
The days were not made for wasting. They are to be filled with more than dreams.
#for ReticentMentalProperty. Images courtesy of the web.
Good morning Mist Man,
Don’t be alarmed when I tell you this but I had a very wonderful dream with you last evening.
Your chest had many freckles and your hair was somehow tinged red, was longer and ran curly and wild.
You leaned into me and dipped down for a kiss that was the sweetest and most gentle of kisses, a mere brushing of lips at first and then more pressing and open, but in my mind, in my dream, even in my sleep it was more of a gift than an exploratory ardent inquiry between new lovers.
I thanked you, twice, and held you, circled my arms around your neck and touched my check to yours and then I woke.
It was very moving, very sensual, but yet professional and more of an exchange of sunshine and gratitude.
No worries, I don’t need to re-create it, but I believe, if I interpret it correctly, is just anticipation for creating with you on Saturday and a little positive reassurance I can draw upon to help me position myself in front of your lens in a way that meets the objectives of the shoot.
Kisses, more of those kind, not the other…- Moi
The man of the mist coaxed honesty from within her, exposed her demons to the dawn and declared her worthy.
Music: take me back to that man in a tuxedo, that man with skilled fingers, and to the way that man held my face, in those hands. Oh, he could make women do, things, with that mouth of his.
Memories: rush back, race over and over in my most awake states, or in those quiet moments when thinking stops. Rise up, life lived, to the present, those touches not lost, never wasted, moments seized and willed into existence, carved inside my hungry head.
Mind: flood my whole self, remind me how he could overtake my hesitation… that fervent side sweep to the left and signature lower lip-tug ending, this intimate partnering and tasting, so very critical to this woman, that crazy gift he carried in his kiss.
She pushes aside how much she misses them to focus on her pride in pursuing and capturing them, this treasure, this experience of him, all tucked away, in a place where her mind freely revisits, whenever she wishes.
# for Reticent Mental Property