erotic poetry

Sometimes I wonder

What it would be like

To be gifted to you

Wearing a big red bow

And your tender bite marks.

I wonder

What it would be like

To lie beneath your fever kisses

And feel the tracks of broken skin (that you gifted right back to me) down my back

From your nails

And your insatiable pangs of thirsty.

I want the heaving of your chest against my own,

And the lick of your sweet honey suckle mouth on my chewed up lips.

I know you equally want

(Don’t deny it… you want it bad…)

My aching love-punched heart

Pulsating through my crazing skin —

And yours —

As you crush your teeth into my ripe flesh

And make all of my parts yours to swallow.

I wonder (I wonder so so much)

What it would be like

To exhale your moans through my own red parted lips

As my hands travel beneath the elastic band at my waist —


I exhale

And the breath and sensual sounds that exit me

Are not only my own…

Not anymore.




*** Well, hopefully whoever it is whose breath you are exhaling doesn’t have halitosis, Angel Eyes…. ***

*** Yeah… I totally didn’t think of that…. Ew. ***

Blood Domicile

Weird Poetry

I withdrew my raw gushing heart from the locked drawer in my chest,

Placed it in your calloused hands,

And watched your eyes as you received it;

They reflected the moonful sky,

And the beating sun in mine

As a curl of my own blood (I could tell by the colour and the perfume) twisted around your chin

From the corners of your lips,

Zigzagging down your throbbing throat,

And under the collar of your worn t-shirt —

Some of the blood absorbing into the cotton over your chest,

Turning eggshell white

To wet shadow-bathed ruby —

The shade of my heart and its skin.

That’s when I knew it had found its home,

Because the rubies in my veins (your veins) had somewhere to go,

And grow,

And they knew they wanted to get there,

Rather than just pooling beneath your Adam’s apple.




*** Gee whiz, Sweet Lips! Here we go with the blood again…. ***

*** Blood is my favourite metaphor and beverage. You might be sick of it, but I’m a vampire at heart. ***

Lip Tattoo

erotic poetry

I had your name

Tattooed on the slippery skin

Inside my lower lip

So it would never fade

(Because if I can taste you by name, I will remember you…)

Or be seen by a single soul…

Including my own

(Should I choose to forget you… and the arrangement of letters that construct that shortening word that everyone else calls you).

Then I had your secrets and silent dirges

Tattooed in scarred-white in columns

(And pearlescent crescent moon teeth marks)

On the silken skin of my inner thighs

So no other soul could read them —

Or know them —

Save for me

And my creeping fingers,

And you,

And your bitten ruby tongue.




*** You know what they say about tattoos, Toots? Getting names tattooed on your face, even the inside of your face, is a really bad idea…. ***

*** I have so many names and words tattooed under my skin that I have more ink than blood running in my veins. ***

Coffee with Me and Honey

Weird Poetry

I poured a bit of my soul

Into your morning coffee

As a sunrise with my name on it

Chased the nighttime out of your sleepdusted eyes.

We watched that morsel of me

Melt along with a teaspoon of melon blossom honey

And my gooey little hummingbird heart

In your chipped oversized mug.

After you added some rich cream to lighten the raven-black mixture,

You took a big gulp,

And I bet that was the exact moment when

You felt me hug you

From your insides.




*** Whatever happened to a simple double-double? Doesn’t anyone just drink coffee-flavoured-coffee anymore? ***

*** This coffee is what ‘hygge’ feels like. This coffee is what a drinkable bonfire feels like. This coffee is what soft slow lovemaking when the winds are blowing so hard and so cold outside it makes the walls and the window sills shudder… feels like. This coffee is what a warm entanglement feels like.***