It's Zenobia

I understand now That I must be warmed Like clay Softened For days Pressed repeatedly Against gentle palms Kneaded sweetly With measured calm I must be taken piece by piece worked with hands mouth teeth legs apart spine released careful concentration build build build come apart  repeat I understand the time I need the soft pressure against resistance that begs permission that says to listen as words deliver a place to lay back to bask in the delight of being repurposed reimagined reborn stem, bloom, thorn crushed between fingers fragrant nascent hope lingers at the edge so close  as I'm stretched pulled, molded, over and over coming close to knowing that this heat has readied me has steadied me has given me shape offered me safe space to exist without a need to be something else someone else soft, delicate, self help begins as hands work clay warm, delicate asking me to stay letting me know I fit securely in any palms I choose so long as they use tempered heat to soften my re...

Fingers drip slick with the scent of citrus clementines and lust and my tongue at present tastes like your name whispered rough, harshly and in vain as heat rushes harshly through my veins knees bent backs wet legs spent with effort only time will let dissolve as darkness eats with fervor, my resolve to hold out for you to hold on to you in the place behind my eyes in the exquisite tension pulsing through these thighs hot, rushing, swimming thoughts breathing... stuttered, caught in the chasm of this need this breaking open of me, like fresh fruit wetting everything for You... citrus peels scatter the floor and my fingers taste of juice

There is velvet On my tongue Soft Sweet Petals Settle On this pink And sink deep And she keeps breathing She weeps, pleading She becomes one liquid listless piece She seeks, needing For the bright breaking light to shatter Behind tight closed lids She lifts, she gives, she lives for this Perfectly timed death against These lips

He escapes Into waves, Barrels that narrow His sights Center his focus His hope is To find something  In that air That fills his lungs Just one perfect  Moment Fresh, clean things I just can’t reach  From the bottom  Of this ocean So I sift through sand And time Going  Through the motions

I passed a window And caught a glimpse Of my reflection My intention Was to simply  Look away But my gaze  Strayed  To my mouth My lips Somehow  Seeing them Made me think How much I wanted A kiss Pressed  Against them  Soft At first, then Something extra Something deeper Something keeping My breath  Caught At my throat Something that begged Me  To hope For a second For more minutes With your tongue Teasing my own I caught of glimpse  Of me And ached right them  To make you mine To take you  Home

It is  with complete  and utter  resistance that I  admit this that I am willing  to say out loud right now that I want myself felt  by the nerves in your fingertips the skin on your waiting lips it breaks me  in a way  to be this splayed  by feelings by needing by the part of me  that is base humanity, animal  hunger  thunders  through my veins  and I remain unable to break away to reason  to be in  any amount of control I am  enthralled  by your scent  devolved from solid  and strength to a weeping  wet mess of need desperate  greed for the fusion  of bodies ours for hours no heed  to sun or stars we cycle slow like the moon we ebb  we flow we reach we peak soon soon soon so much  of us  just a blur of softened bones of moans of teeth and sheets and we  as one  with no regrets expect  from me  my need to keep  this to myself to...