Siren Whispers

Siren Song


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Museum of my heart

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The museum of my heart is full of rooms

that describe me

but do not define me.

Walls painted with joy and pain.

Hung with the memories

of family and friends and lovers.

Floors set with mistakes and successes

Ceilings lit with laughter and love.

This museum of my heart is not a place of glass cases,

where you look but do not touch.

It is a place of discovery,

where every corner is interactive

and rooms are added

continuously.

A growing archive

to how deeply I live

and to how profoundly I love.

:

©SirenSong1208 ~ 2017

Photograph taken from Tumblr

 


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Sea of dreams

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I will find you

upon this sea of dreams

delighting in the sometime

fierce waves

after becalmed waters

seduced by a midnight

as dark as the ocean deep

and one that beckons to me

to plunge into your depths

as we become

two minds

charting the same course

night after night

to each other.

:

©SirenSong1208 ~ 2017

Artwork found on Tumblr/unsourced

 


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Flourish

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I am not a rose on parade

for your viewing pleasure

a treasure to be kept

under lock and key.

I am meant to be touched

softness under your fingertips

curves to be mapped

a scent to be savoured

a mind to be explored

thoroughly.

I am not delicate.

I am lush and vivid

with a colour that lasts longer

than first blush.

I will not wilt without the sun.

I will not thirst without the rain.

I will flourish

again and again

through each weathering storm,

a rose

in winter.

:

©SirenSong1208 ~ 2017

Photograph taken from Tumblr


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Union

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Sometimes the thoughts come.  In a rush

I see it clearly. 

The bed, a tangle of sheets and limbs.  Skin striped by the shafts of light finding their way through the slatted shades.

I am on my back and you are before me.  Caressing me.  Pinching me.  Licking me.  Making every sense sing with your attentions.

I am on fire, with you.

I look up at you and see the same fevered arousal in your eyes that I know has softened my own.  I reach out and touch your chest, lazily stroking downward.

Touching you.  Feeling you and how hard you are.  How much you want me.

Your fingers have already discovered just how much I want you.

You flip me over, have me kneeling on the bed.  My breasts are flat against the sheet, my arse is in the air.  My hands are stretched out in front of me.  Clutching.  Beseeching.  My thighs delightfully wide.  For your pleasure

Your thrust takes my breath away.  Your skin against mine as you take your time. Your hands gripping my hips.  Your strokes, blissfully slow. Full.  Measured.

I feel one hand slide upward to palm my breast.  To squeeze my nipple.  The other sliding downward to find my sex.  Probing.  Circling.  Your movements synchronised with your thrusts.

You pull me up, my back against your chest.

My arousal is a delicious torture.  I can feel it building.  Stroke by stroke.

I can’t help but push backward, to take more of you, to feel you closer.

Your thrusts become faster now.  Gaining momentum

I’m lost in the sensations.  Your hands on me.  You inside me, filling me. 

Nothing else matters. 

Just us. And this thrilling, euphoric union. 

:

©SirenSong1208 ~ 2015

Photo taken from Tumblr


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Mask

She could be

a thousand different women

for him

each one

more exotic

more exciting

more enticing

than the rest

but the one under the mask

the paradox

is the one that he saw

and wanted.

:

©SirenSong1208 ~ 2017

Photograph taken from Tumblr


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Empty forests

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The empty forests of my mind

Are filled with trees that touch the sky

With dappled shade and secrets

And beginnings and ends

Of boughs and branches

Filled with thoughts and plans

Ones that I’ve had

And ones that are in bloom

But there are others

Those that are in their infancy

Newly seeded

Awaiting optimum conditions

And time

For growth

The sun, the rain, the air, the soil

Working together

Bringing to fruition

This vivid and verdant path

That I am meant to walk upon

:

©SirenSong1208 ~ 2017

Photograph by SirenSong1208


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Languid

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Long languid summer days

pale skin a distant memory.

Now there are bare shoulders

and tawny silken thighs

heated by his caress.

His hands

glide along their length

gentle

yet firm and possessive

igniting a shiver within.

Burning her skin

with the mark

of his desire.

He indicates his wish

with the slightest touch

wider

she obeys on instinct

because it’s what she craves.

The ache within

growing.

His hands upon her

giving her what she needs

what he wants.

Her eyes close

as she savors the feelings

sweeping over her

allowing them to take flight

and soar.

:

©SirenSong1208 ~ 2016

Photograph taken from Tumblr