...and the chocolate factory

as we walk down

isles filled with treats

our hearts desires

our carnal needs

being fulfilled

in moments of passion

as threads of 

decadence

seep into our souls.

you melt into me

like dark chocolate

on caramel walls.

82 mph

we got the windows down
kisses blowing in the wind
arm rest up.
you're invading my space,
i'm in your lap.
we rock to the rhythm of
our favorite melody.
in the distance
you see a mirage of your freedom
fading.
you hit the breaks.
bloodshed is everywhere.
my heart is on the dash.

ashes to ashes

today I buried us.
he had already shot hope in the head and killed it.
i just got the dirt.

the view from below

i am here
staring up at you
as i surrender myself
completely.

"Who breaks a butterfly upon a wheel?"

A quote from Alexander Pope's "Epistle to Dr Arbuthnot" of January 1735, written to signify the gigantic and often massive effort we put into acheiving something minor. It's similar to the punishment of a thief stealing food and having his hands cut off.

"What the caterpillar calls the end, God calls the butterfly."- Author unknown

greenery

random shots

I'm a woman

I'm a woman and
This is real life.
I have a mouth that speaks
Words that come forth into
Fruition bearing sounds of
Complete and utter submission.
I'm a woman,
Young and free.
No batteries, just
Powered by me.
Not a toy for your
Amusement.
I'm a woman,
Pure and simple,
With a heart of gold
That only a true one,
With his soul,
Will ever know.
I'm a woman and this,
Is real life.

paradise

I am sitting here with a chocolate piece of heaven. Like the gods built him special order and designed him with the power and grace of royalty. His thighs like pillars holding up a watch tower that peers over a kingdom. Arms like cocoa tree branches, giving life with every touch. And when he lies inside me, he inspires generations. Coming forth like springs in tropical islands that have yet to be discovered. He slays hearts, minds; charming with every stroke, every glance, every glimmer of ivory teeth. Hands like black wands working magic and carrying paradise on every fingertip. Eyes like diamonds, pure and raw. Envisioning pain and pleasure. He sits observant. We speak one language across cultures. From where did he sprout? 

this isn't sex.

This isn't sex. 

It's a conversation. 

From one source to another. 

No words. 

Just movement. 

I rock you roll

I move and you go deeper. 

Faster. 

Harder. 

One stroke. 

Almost. 

I swirl. 

You smile. 

I moan. 

You call my name. 

He grows

I come. 

We arrive. 

Repeat.