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Mood Swing# 21: The Haze

she felt him..his heavy crush � � �
...the aftermath of his oozed essence � � �
subsisting inside the catacomb of her nether-realm � � �
as a vivid re-occuring nocturnal memory � � �
replaying itself..needling... � � �
...over the scratched vinyl of her soul � � �
throbbing in repetition � � �
� � �
she felt the ubiquitous collapse of her being � � �
...remembered intense pressure � � �
of those all-purposed blue collared hands � � �
spreading her thighs into his favored yoga positions � � �
..stretching that sweet yoni � � �
� � �
she fingered his mane � � �
.....savoring his journey down her middle earth � � �
with a slow re-introduction of his crowned.. � � �
browned mushroom tip � � �
..swelling inside her well-ness � � �
inducing dopamine highs of a familiar emerald forest � � �
...of a dampened meadow...a cream filled moon � � �
and illumed anatomies sans fig leaves � � �
� � �
naked and raw... � � �
� � �
..she saw his visage.. � � �
.....phasing in and out...hazing � � �
lingering behind her eyes like a hued apparition � � �
..........smoothed in mocha and burgundy � � �
..luring her back to his bed.. � � �
� � �
she recalled in broad daylight..on her way to work � � �
...his voice...dark and demanding � � �
dragging her down...while lifting her up..filling her cup � � �
......with intonations..jagged yet direct... � � �
flaying her ragged emotions..smearing her � � �
smudging inside... steering her cockpit � � �
� � �
she couldn't stop hearing him.. � � �
� � �
.....his calm conversational demeanor � � �
the echoes of his baritone....above and below.. � � �
..strip searching her niceties..her piety � � �
in carrier waves of wisdom and wiliness and bold willingness � � �
salt-dripped in sweaty memoirs � � �
forming translucent pearls over her heaving breast � � �
.....christening stiffened nipples � � �
... � � �
she licked his chest....sucked up liquid scripture... � � �
slaked her thirst...inhaled his pheromones.... � � �
...wore him like aged cologne... � � �
as he drove that thick sycamore stake...like a spiritual rush.. � � �
...urgent as fuck..splitting dimensions � � �
spewing another warm batch of loaded intentions � � �
...crazy-glueing her mind and body.. � � �
leaving her upended...stuck...drifting in greyed spaces.. � � �
..still on his clock...on his time � � �
� � �
on an unassuming rainy Wednesday...wondering when � � �
..will that fabulous weekend take place � � �
� � �
again... � � �