You glow; like the stars twinkling above us you glow. Warmth spreads throughout my entire body as your lips connect with mine and even in the darkness behind my closed eyes I can still see that light. It is blinding and yet I welcome it. I welcome the sweet taste of heaven on my tongue and the power of passion as it wraps itself around every part of me that once belonged to no one. I am yours. In every sense of the word I am yours. I am unwavering, unbroken, full of life, willing to surrender, complete.

I wrote this last November, and re-discovered it earlier today. After reading over it a few times I decided to share it here.

Warning: For some sensuality and hints at an addiction. Do not continue reading if you think you might be offended.

Version One:

I lick my lips. The sweet taste of you lingers there, making me shudder. My hand raises of its own volition; fingers delicately trace the outline of my mouth. It’s only when I pull the hand away that I notice glistening ruby droplets clinging to my skin. Lovely.

I close my eyes; slide those traitorous fingertips into my mouth and shamelessly clean them of the evidence of our encounter. I feel myself shaking. My body needs more.

When you ask me if I want another taste… I smile and moan my approval. No words were needed. You already knew the answer before I gave it.

You offer your wrist. All I see is red. The need consumes… I drink deeply as though this is the last time. I tell myself that it will be, but we know it won’t. Soon my own thoughts vanish. I forget who I am entirely. I’m lost in you, tumbling down the rabbit hole and the agony. is. exquisite.

Version Two :

She licks her lips. The sweet taste of him lingers there, making her shudder. Her hand raises of its own volition; fingers delicately trace the outline of her mouth. It’s only when she pulls her hand away that she notices the glistening ruby droplets clinging to her skin. “Lovely.” She thinks.

She closes her eyes; slides those traitorous fingertips into her mouth and shamelessly cleans them of the evidence of the encounter. She feels herself shaking. Her body needs more.

When he asks her if she wants another taste… she smiles and moans her approval. No words were needed. He already knew the answer before she gave it.

He offers his wrist. All she sees is red. The need consumes… She drinks deeply as though this is the last time. She tells herself that it will be, but they both know it won’t. Soon her own thoughts vanish. She forgets who she is entirely. She looses herself in him, tumbling down the rabbit hole and the agony. is. exquisite.

This needs work. Both versions are a little rough… but I’ll let you draw your own conclusions as to what this is about. I’m interested to hear everyone’s thoughts.

Starved

Sometimes I catch glimpses of who she used to be when I look at her. Beautiful dark eyes sparkle; the corners of her mouth turn up ever so slightly as if she is privy to some secret that I am not. I die a little more when those moments fade. My memories of us barely keep me sane now.

It is no way to live… starved of love.

“Mon amour?” She calls out to me softly. Hope stirs anew. It is the first time she has spoken in five years. “Mon doux… Mon doux, have you come back to me?”

This was written for @VelvetVerbosity ’s 100 word challenge. The prompt: “starved”.  It’s my first contribution to the challenge, and while I could spend all day editing this… I think I’ll leave as it is.

Untitled

I can still smell her. Even now I can still smell her in my car. Her scent is everywhere. I glance up into my rear-view; seeing the back seat my mind is flooded with visions of her laying there. It’s almost like I can reach out and touch her. I want to, but the image vanishes. She fades away into nothing as I hear my name being called out, but it’s not ‘her’ I’m hearing.

“Michael? Hey, are you okay?” She sounds concerned… She should be. I sure as hell am.

I grip the wheel. It’s not ‘her’ I’m hearing.

I wrote this on May 19th, 2011.. and a very good friend of mine was kind enough to share it with the followers of her blog for me. (You can find her space, and this exact piece here: @auroralee)  I thought I’d share it again.