stained

I scrub my skin
as raw as my heart
that's stained the sleeves
of every perfectly picked
outfit I laid out
for him.

paid heed

I find letters littered
on the dusty floor
of the past,
words I never noticed,
till now.
And suddenly,
ashamed and sorry,
I think perhaps
I wish I'd paid heed
to the light in the eyes
of those who'd agree...
who long ago
wished I'd paid heed
to the light in their eyes
as well.

next to nothing

I am tangled in the touch
of his written words
that tear me into beautiful
deep dripping puddles
of passion that leak
through my roof
and soak my bed
in his scent
and it lingers
on my fingers
that sign his name
in silence
and it means
next to nothing
to him.

caught

My days dissolve into words,
his words and mine,
ensnared and entwined
like a wild creature
caught.
And I am reminded of
feral cats that fear for their life
until you simply
cover their eyes.

pulpit

You sock me
upside the head
with your seduction.
And I wonder
where your plans
may lead.
Perhaps to the pulpit
where you've stripped me
once before.
Bare.
And bronzed.
My body waits
for whatever
you have
in store.

after the rain

I stand in the pose of the tree.
And breathe.
While sunlight warms my skin,
and drop dappled firs
reach to the heavens
to rejoice in quiet voice.
And I can't help but think
that perhaps
they are as awed as I
by the forest after a rain.

soaked

Your tongue tastes of cream soda
and strawberries,
soaked in sugar
and dripping with
desire.
Kinda like me.

flick

You are gone.
Shriveled into a dark
dusty memory,
a long forgotten mistake,
that I toss aside
with the flick
of a wrist...
And suddenly,
I can stand up
straight.

arabian nights

Let me be your Scheherazade
your breath, your blood, your life,
weaving tales of desire
through the jasmine scented night.
I will worship you alone
dark sultan of my dreams,
if you whisper, your voice like velvet,
of pleasures yet unknown.
I shall surrender willingly
as your hands possess,
strong and firm upon my skin
yet soft as silks caress.
I will kneel before you,
grant your every wish,
I will give you everything
if you allow me this.
Let me be your Scheherazade,
lie back on velvet pillows
and I will dance the seven veils
in silken swirling billows.
Let me be your lotus,
sweet, tender and pale,
a dewey petaled flower
that opens delicately
at dusks darkening hour.
Let me be your Scheherazade
a gift like desert rain
to trace in grace your dark skin
with locks of raven mane.
I will deliver un-ending delights
throughout the sultry night,
the nectar of mango upon your lips
combined with hungry kiss.
In the corner, over charcoal
amber resin glows
an ancient scent as dark and deep
as the Niles water flows.
I will be your mystery
like the sacred shadowed halls
where history reveals itself
and the pyramids secrets live.
Let me be your Scheherazade
for I have much to tell you...
and even more to give.

emerging

I am in chrysalis,
emerging gracefully
by the power of my Guru's
gentle prodding.
Delicate and damp,
my wings spread wide
to engulf the Universe.
And mounted by my savior
I flutter into infinity
to unabashedly french kiss
the mouth of Divinity.

ash

I will worship you
if Shiva will not take offense
(he seems the jealous type,)
and like Hanuman with Ram in his heart,
in a clamor of gold tear open my chest
to reveal your face, your grace,
and the mantra of your name
that pumps in my veins.
I will kneel at your feet
to feel your hand on my head,
then roll into savasana,
revealing the soft sweet
underbelly of my soul.
I will weep like Parvati
crazed for her king,
for to me, you are he,
the wild God of passion
with a lingam of lightening
forbidden to touch.
And like Shaivite sadhus
dissolved in devotion,
I'll burn in the fire,
adorn my temple
with the ash of desire,
and worship as I
see fit.

madness

This insidious madness set on
the day I decided to return,
adopting the convenient delusion
that this time would somehow
be different.

rsvp

When the storm descends
Within his eyes,
I see a darkness inside
Twisting and turning,
Desiring and trying
To be released,
A viable entity
Knocking at the door,
Whispering “more,”
Desperate to live,
Yearning to give
Him exactly what
He needs.
And my craving
To cultivate
It’s flowering form
Into a creation so vast
I can leap into its grasp,
Turns to torture so sweet
I long to weep,
But I resolve instead
To kneel and wait
In silence that aches,
Watching still
As darkness descends,
His fingers linger
Shaking in shame,
Signing his name
"Yes my love,
I'll come to thee..."
A long awaited R.S.V.P
To the long desired
Invitation to sin,
The long denied
Invitation to me.

symbiotic

You say my dancing feeds you,
as your powdered palm pats,
and fingertips tap,
the skin of the drum.
And I watch half crazed
as you command passion
with percussive perfection
that wets my lips
and drives my hips
to destinations once unknown.
And you watch half dazed
as I twirl to your tabla,
drunk on sound,
inhibitions unwound,
shaken and awakened
to a realization profound,
until I approach knowing
you too can see
how deliciously dangerous
this symbiotic relationship
has the potential
to be.

Nataraj

Shiva is a brilliant lover.

Knowing exactly what I'd need,
he came to me as Nataraj.

All those hands did as they pleased.

And leaning over me
his eyes glimmered with delight,
as I panted in his ear,

and exploded into the vastness
of his arms.