My desire unfolds before your hands,
like a book whose pages are newly opened.
You read me effortlessly, with understanding,
turning tenderly at each last line whispered.
Your eyes speak of bold passions, as lips
utter breathless, undulating passages.
The story I tell is yours, and of the gifts,
unwrapped, opened and laid before.
Each kiss the nexus for the next. A touch,
the segue for the sentence of sensations.
No contrivance, nor literary tricks to tease.
Your tale is true, with no scheme of seduction.
Never rushing to know the end, you read on
and relish each page for its own moment.
With ecstasy’s release, you bring me home, and
read the last page as if our story were mine alone.
She asks me, “What do you see when you look
into my eyes?”
I don’t answer right away. I can’t. I won’t let
her know that I have been staring into them long
enough to already have the answer.
She wants me to look closely now; come up with
an answer in the moment. I pretend. I gaze. I stare.
She doesn’t know that I have already taken those
moments and memorized those images.
I wait another moment, but before I answer I brush
her lips with mine; a teasing kiss, and then I speak.
“I see the Infinite Goddess; the wisdom of the Earth
and her creation. I see the Eternal.”
“I see the lushness of an emerald jungle, overflowing
with the sweetness of a million blossoms.”
“I see you drink from the chalice in your hand; it is
filled with equal parts passion and compassion.”
“I see a soul on fire, yet resting with a countenance
of peace. I see beauty unaffected by its own reflection.”
“I see you, my love. In all things I
see you, and in you, all things. I see the Divine.”
If you have enjoyed Jezebel Writesome's Poetry, then please be certain to Contact The Poet and thank her for posting her Work.
Click here for a list of all of Jezebel Writesome's Stories and Poetry at Sapphic Voices Authoresses.
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