August 28th, 2016
My love and I board the ship, our footsteps pounding the wood, step by step, following our solemn proclamations of our lamented betrayals. “You lied, you dishonored your word, you left me, I cannot trust you.” The words echo louder than a church bell at noon, and still ring true in the cave of my bones. How do you soothe a lover’s mistrust, how do we traverse the storm of our love?
One after another we walk, like soldiers in the front line of love. Yet it’s no longer guns in our hands, for they are empty. The emptiness is filled when our hands touch, reclaiming our humanity; we are all linked in a chain, and not even guns can stop the human spirit. We recall the rhythm of our breath, a subtle gyration that over takes over our cognition, our hips sway to the lull of the ocean itself; what are we but made of water? The vibration carries us up to our hearts; at least our heads are one inch above drowning indefinitely. Now is the time we sink or swim; perish forever, or slowly build the dream that has survived in our imaginations. We recall the incandescence, the immaculate purity that keeps us together, and beckon it to come forth. You cannot tarnish the spirit; it is beyond the stained sins of physiological crimes. Time brings the decaying rust, yet our love soars beyond the atrophy of muscle and blood.
The wind blows his hair, lifting him above the railing of the ship, and he holds my hand as he floats, gaining a perspective of a new destination; yet that is not the only thing we strive to sail to. We are not arriving anywhere, yet we are traveling. He foresees a way; the way, the way in which we are to love, in presence, and embrace the disgraces of our past, and putting them to rest like the tides below.
Forgiveness slows the tempo of our dance, and we become completely still. An apology of my infidelity, him loosening the grip of his righteous jealousy, and we can hear the seagulls above head. The sky begins to part, and the most subtle signs of sunlight sprinkle their rays on the grey water, and we begin to move toward the golden luminosity. Faith is the steam engine propelling us forward; an intonation that becomes the buoyancy of the boat itself. We never lost it, even if we began to let go, to float away; the faith remained, like a loyal companion. All we had to do was swim back to it and recognize our inherent capabilities to appreciate the sustenance of a force beyond what we could begin to understand.
Music sounds in the lustful pulse of the engine, we begin to cast-off, to prepare for the great voyage ahead; that of building a life together, yet one that never fully drops an anchor to a new continent. We simply ask of each other to just be; to be on the ship of our love, to enjoy the salt on each other’s skin, to take in the freedom of breath, the endless horizon, and the masterpieces of the clouds painting brushstrokes of heaven in the sky.
Night falls, and I become naked against him, yet not nude, but completely bare in my defenses. I am helpless in the presence of his radiant heart, I surrender at the beaming solar vigor inside his chest. A wisdom that I cannot begin to know, but I recognize.
“I love you because of the intricate immaculate weaving of your heart; I could never imagine a lover such as you, Creation had a better plan that what I could craft in my mind.”
We are tender now, eyes gazing beyond our retinas, through the solar systems of rotating worlds far beyond the iris of his eye.
“I could not dream of your entirety, I could not sculpt you, I could not graft your skin from leather. My darling, my sweet darling LoveAngel, I could not imagine a more perfect lover.” My Lord gifts the words, his eyes mimicking the storms of the ocean, excreting the elements of life from his gentle openings, creating a symphony of emotions inside of me. He plays me like a cello, an eloquent depth anchoring me all the way to the bottom of his truth. I am tied to him, no matter how strong the current becomes; I always find my way back to him.
My nipple now exposed, peaking its way out of my dress. we have not discussed the formalities of our sensual protocols, for we have just barely reunited after 2 months apart. Yet he does not shy away from admiring the areola, a request reaching for his tongue. The bow becomes more vigorous on the strings, the tempo escalating to the peak of my arousal.
“May I kiss your nipple?"
I almost died when I heart the words. I could surrender my life, for my flesh had completed it’s duty of incarnation.
“Yes.” I beg. Yes PLEASE…. I say inside my head.
A waterfall drips from his tongue, like a faucet from an angelic realm, eradicating all of my trespasses, all of the mistrust erased. The desert of my desperate flower begins to dampen, the pathways of his entrustment beginning to reform. My breath becomes heavy, the first sign of full arousal since we parted, inflating the sails above us with my heated moans. My sexual longing now at the precipice of absolute pleasure, he does not let up in the intent of liquidating my harnessed rage. His tongue dancing melodies, an enraptured fusion of energy is upon me, my body a vessel traversing a sublime ocean. Yet all of my yearning, all of my frustration is released in this one moment of his tongue caressing the slightest tip of my left nipple, for a new hope is birthed, a force of reckoning, that we don’t try to define. I give myself to his rapture, to the swells of what is building beneath me. I am woman, one with nature, just as wild and ferocious. Yet just as innocent as a young child, only able to see beauty.
“My love, you are the most exquisite delicacy God could possibly bestow upon my noble tongue.”
Our bodies entertained the intelligence of a serpent, yet our hips are the center of our gravity, giving way to an erotic surge, as the boat weeps and wanes, mimicking our love play. We rock in the passions, naked but not nude, just the fabric of his undergarments between us. The first time we allowed our hips to sway unencumbered from the trespassing of the past, and with no discussions of the future, we are only the undulating movement which propels our life-force forward from the root of our groins.
His hand finds the crevice between my legs, now just atop one layer of fabric, I cannot defend my sanctity, yet with each stroke above the nerve endings of my magnetic sanctum is an act of worship itself. My moans build with each breath, he allows himself the pleasure of full entrance to my damp cave with a single digit, and we unite in memories of our sexual rhythms. An inner pulse, a knowing, our hearts compounded with pheromones, with the textures and scents of a recognition that cannot be deciphered with our minds, the papyrus of our love map is only unraveled by a blind intuition, a sensor that is beyond the domain of our singular desire; we are driven by desire itself.
He senses all of me with his omnitude, and when the dams can no longer hold the force of the pressure of my regal oceans, they walls burst apart in a firework display of color and sound. I shower my juice as an ode to erotic gratification, soothing all timelines of my fragmented self to become distilled in the perfection of wholeness of this one moment.
Yet we still haven’t propelled ourselves towards the ultimate human celebration of orgiastic delights; he has not drank of my chalice, he did not dive into my ambrosia with his christened sword; we allow time to deal our fate, not rushing delicacy. We drift along the boat on steady waters, loaded with hormonal ammunition to keep the bonds of our love intact; my beating flesh atop his, I lay to rest upon my true home, nestled into the paramount testament of true love; in the arms of my Lord, my King, of which I never want to part from the light of His Soul.
Cordial Deliverance
Will he drink of me, will he welcome me back into his universe, will I ever deserve his heart’s true offering, all of his soul, his body, and in return his full acceptance of his primal Goddess? The frequencies within me contain a new liquid now; that of life, of every DNA code, of plasma that is needed to create with, to create a child of the Divine. Swimming in blood, and in the stars of what was, the weathered storm inside of me only needs one spark, and I will catch aflame.
He steps into my realm; I drop any expectation of acceptance, I only bare witness to truth, to our truth, to our love’s expression without limits. The parting of his lips, the exhalation of breath, his tongue salivates at the edges of my chalice; will he ingest this cordial deliverance?
Overtaken by the aroma, he is drunk before he swallows; the sheer smell alone tips the cup towards him, spilling the nectar of my decadence upon him. The veils of my undergarments parted, and there is no separation of his flesh with mine. He indulged his bare sword upon my chalice, the offerings of my blood and nectar dripping down his shaft, all reason had left my thoughts, and the very tip of him stalemated the fruit of my feminine entrance. I dared not go deeper, to churn my desire all the way down his bulging shaft, no I lingered, held captive in erotic paralysis. My back arched towards an unknown gate, as if some outside force could pin me to the bed, I awaited the mystery to appear, for I could not maneuver freedom from this rapture. I am now his captive, moaning for his full permission to be all-encompassed by Him.
He took his hand upon his shaft, the tip of which is inside of me, just barely, and he invited the movement of the churning, the churning of my liquids. If I were grapes off the vine, then he devotedly massaged me, crafting the most irresistible intoxicant, with each pass of my flesh on his, the wine masterfully oxygenated to create an aromatic bouquet coveted by the Gods. Unable to be anything other than a lascivious mess, I beg to be plunged deeper, to feel him in his universality, there is not one fraction of him that I will not devour.
The mouth of my love widens, and I plunge forth, down upon him, now our grapes and wine and nectar have become a painting of absolute chaos in heat, I am an uncontrollable fractal of an unadulterated divinity; if there could be a syntax to encapsulate pure heaven, then I invite it to be manifest in me now. Bliss is a flat dimension on a white page with black marks, but when experienced in the body, in such moments when He and I are united, it is a concept that penetrates all dimensions, and unites us to a force that is as holy as creation itself.
My body begins to take shape around him, the pressure of his flesh formulating mine, I am but a musical instrument strummed by the genius of his strokes, I only emote ecstasy through screams and moans, until his hips fuck me open to let out the primal roar, animating not beauty, but the violence of orgasm ripping through every fiber. I am an obscured feminine force, the only thing that is left is the pulse of my sexual synapses, the relentless rhythm of his drum, beating, unable to let up the pace. We only accelerate our hips’ lustful ambition towards the highest peak; that of becoming orgiastic light.
He searches for me, I ascend towards him, to the center of our gravity orbiting the same degree of rotation, an epic crescendo, our eyes locked in a gaze into paradise, our screams are the highest melodic pitch, until he can no longer contain what was held back for so long… apart from his Goddess, distanced from Her skin, now the gap is ever shortened, when at last the geyser within him bursts, as he cries inside of me, crying of the pleasure that deconstructs our souls.
Now, our cordial in homeostasis, utterly complete, his liquids inside of mine, we create the potential for new universes to be spawned.
