My pulse races and stutters,
a staccato sound of gunfire,
as you draw near.
Senses enlivened by proximity,
electricity crackling,
the air
ripe
with danger
and desire
as you take what you need,
relentlessly. My defenses plundered
with the skill of a tactician.
This want
you’ve created,
a violent firestorm
that burns it all down.
:
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I cannot cage these thoughts
nor douse these desires.
Every encounter pushes me further over the edge:
to fall
to fly
into this fire
with you.
Cool sheets and exhausted sleep
coalesce into an awakening;
flames licking every inch of my bare frame,
sheets tangled around curves,
as my hands smooth over warm skin
and my fingers find every ache
with your name.
:
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Wrists touched
with tender fingers
upon sensitive skin, a provocation
an awakening
of feral need.
.
Wrist held
within a manacle
of your will,
pinned
and possessed
for pleasure
.
Wrists kissed,
a rapid pulse
beating
beneath your lips,
my scent
an invading army
upon your senses;
an invocation of your need.
.
Wrists,
pale and vulnerable,
soft skin
reddened by your attentions;
the burn left
showing desire’s path
and my destruction.
:
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Photograph taken from Pinterest, unsourced.
He reads her and wonders: Is it his name written between the lines?
.
Could he be the one,
her eloquent distraction
the frisson along her spine
the fire within her
tangled sheets
the heat
between her thighs
.
Could he be the one,
the smile that appears
when no one is looking
a secret she keeps
close to her
.
Is it his face haunting her dreams?
.
He reads her
and wonders
and wants it to be so
:
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All rights reserved.
Photograph taken from Pinterest, unsourced.
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Cover me with your sin
Fingers threaded through with mine
Held aloft
Pressed upon soft white sheets
Stark against flesh flushed pink
With arousal
With exertion
.
Cover me with your sin
As you crowd me with your intentions
To spoil
To sate
To initiate
Claiming every dark instinct as your own
As you pin me to the page
Writing your darkest prose
Seeing my response
Under your fingertips
A whorl of darkly inked curves and lines
Entwining with your own
:
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He finds she lingers
like woodsmoke on a winter’s night
a scent at once pleasing
pungent, with memories he pulls close
remembrance sinking its claws in
deep, hunger for another taste
taking hold
he awaits the rush of blood to his head
a feral assault on his senses
that will leave him aching
inhabited
by the traces she leaves behind
:
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Every scrap of lace
every length of ribbon
every button
every bow
I imagine your fingers
slowly
meticulously
tantalisingly
deliciously
undoing each of them
and in doing so
…undoing me.
:
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Violin plays to my soul’s voice.
.
Your lips find my skin with every note
played, sometimes tenderly
slowly elucidating
notes and feelings drawing
sweetness to the surface
sometimes with an intensity
breathtaking with passion
brooking no resistance
lips to skin
bow to strings
you
maestro of my body and soul
the song spills from my lips
:
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I dream of your hands
tangled like need
in my hair
as I breathe you in.
.
I dream of your hands
finding every curve and line
touching them
molding them to your palms
like a sculptor.
.
I dream of your hands
covering every inch of my skin
a blistering caress
that ignites my own fire.
.
I dream of your hands
making my body sing
with a touch, a grasp
that tells me I am yours
my song for your ears only.
.
I dream of your hands
and my own hands
become your proxy.
:
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Photograph taken from Tumblr, unsourced
Days bleed into nights
longing forbidden,
repressed
hours underscored
the persistent hum of sweet desire
yearning that screams for the bite of fingers
maddened with passion
palms molded to hips
intent driven home
the hunger to feel his breath upon my ear, my neck
how it unravels me
completely
this ache burns with a thousand fires
a heat that the press of his skin
would not squelch
but would light anew
:
Copyright ©SirenSong1208
All rights reserved.
Photograph taken from Tumblr, unsourced
Siren Whispers 