One Of My Poems From My Deleted Blog.

Without a Word

Without a word, you fall into a position I never asked for, never had to, a position you needed to feel and knew, with certainty I would honor.

Soul Love

And after they are done with you. And after I am done with you and you are cut down. No one except the one who knows you best (Me) could ever understand why you would fall to your knees and thank me.

I love when one of my poems from my deleted blog finds me!

The Last Barrier

“It can be easy or it can be hard. I tell you  as I undo the satin strap. 

The speed and the depth of your breath tell me which as I pull off  the last barrier 

The Best of Lessons

It is the best of lessons, the more fucked out I leave you, the more the surrender. the more desperate the need to please. And what man could want more than that perfect desperation from his perfect woman?

The Problem With Fantasies

The problem with fantasies is that I tend to make them realities and you may end up getting exactly what you thought you wanted, whether you wanted it or not.

The Culmination of Assurance

It is the after. After the surrender. The taking. The sweet ravaging with all its pain and desire. After the orgasm. and the next orgasm and the last, forced orgasm, and we are both spent, and we fall together in silken tenderness, so sure of our love we could weep, this, the after, the culmination of assurance.

The Real Things Never Die

At times you seem a dream.

Impossibly perfect, if not for the world,

At least for me. Every line and confession.

Every slowly strip tease and revelation

Kept so silent for so long. Released. Shared.

Trusted. Every curve just where my dreams would have them.

Every desire a mirror. Dreams that became hopes.

But, time and distance, pasts and vulnerabilities

Have their cost. And yet, even now, apart,

You seem a dream more real than a heart can stand

And I am left not knowing what is and is not,

Like a night lost in lust, so deep it feels like

A movie without a proper ending,

Real and not real and a little floundering,

Something vintage and yet somehow still vibrant.

Lust lives. Love lives. The real thing never dies.

Limits

And just as you believe there are limits to what might become real, uyou find out there are not. None in you. And certainly none from me.

Still finding my old poems from my Tumblr deleted site saved by others. Thanks to all of you who reposted them!

Consequences

Blindfolded, you feel more  intensely.  Each caress.  Each tiny pinprick of pain

is distinct from the other. 

Until all subtlety is abandoned and I split you asunder,  losing my control to my passion, 

forcing each cry ripped from your lips,  each one the consequence of your surrender. 

M or F?

Male. The poems are about me and my love.