NSFW – Adults Only Please – My goal with this page constantly evolves – there was a time when all I wanted was to pique a woman's interest in the hope we connect through writing, dialogue … today, with all of the wonderful inspiration I've received, my need is to further my respect and intrigue in the sensual nature of 'woman' in all of her grace and elegance. I do hope you might enjoy!

Posts tagged “soul

In A Quiet Twilight


her_ghost_in_the_fog_by_dimmfreak

There’s been a lot of talk recently,

about what it is,

what we have,

how the world seems to function,

though we’re an anomaly to

the truth.

 

I came home tonight,

yes, a sort of settling fashion,

so often I’ve felt out of place,

in a wonder,

not knowing really,

where home might ever be.

 

I knew it once,

when in her arms,

she cradled me,

oh, yes, I am a man,

but there is something rather

fortunate,

when a woman does hold your

soul in everlasting love.

 

So, tonight,

I’m aching a little bit,

there’s a settling sort of peace,

knowing love,

knowing she does love,

knowing,

is really all that matters

some times.

 

Then comes the wonder,

in the night,

the twilight with the crickets,

singing that familiar song,

we both agreed,

last week, indeed,

we listened to the same

melody.

 

In the quiet of the twilight,

I do love

her.

 

* photo found on Deviant Art

 


A State of Mind Play


I’m working on a plan,

you see,

with every day, I know my routine,

it is safe,

well tucked away,

to the onlooker, it seems probably typical,

the normalcy of an American society,

yet, step inside my game,

and find a completely different world,

one in constant adjustment,

always needing to figure out a new plan.

 

See, recently, we

became a different enigma,

untouchables,

in a manner of speaking,

or even just thinking I suppose,

on our own,

not together in the sense of

any longer wanting the same things.

Though we do,

always want what is best for the other,

often sacrificing our own needs for the happiness,

the, happiness,

that piece of ourselves

that brought us into each other’s arms

so many years ago today.

 

So it is a state of mind thing,

this learning how to live,

in a parallel universe,

seems difficult to touch upon

each other’s soul,

when just out of reach,

no longer sharing that desire

to reach

inside.


Heartfelt Plea


Oh to know the difference between a might be and a will,

the solid foundation of love in question,

Oh to realize the fallible nature of society driven by rule,

to know the outcome before we are made the fool.

Oh please believe my heart when an ache is known

for there is nowhere else I wish to be found,

then in her arms, with her sweet taste, her lips that share the night,

that in a moment I might lose myself and find comfort in thee.

Oh to know the beauty of Grace may be round,

in that her elegance of lost hope that now is found.


Hope Remains


Look outside the sunlight shadows the morning mood,

there’s a partial overcast sky,

suggests an incomplete meaning,

there would seem to be a distant pain

exists in her heart.

 

He would try to simply hold on to measure,

the beating pulse of angst she wish

would a challenge meet his own heart,

a yearning,

a desire beyond the normalcy

of knowing love could be trusted

always

without necessary definition.

 

We do imagine what our heart believes,

that if in a sudden turn,

her eyes might be in his again,

he would take her tears and meet them with his own,

if only,

in this moment the door would be open,

if the sudden luxury of peace,

could then step inside the vacancy

left bruised in

 

my soul.


In Knowing Why


A slow burn,

the gradual release

when the mind,

chooses to listen

rather then react to the news.

 

I know I love,

hearts strings touch reality

exist in my every breath,

each moment I glance,

the look is for her eyes.

 

Yes there is a certain peace

in knowing

when no longer the confusion

implies a fabrication,

or suggests impulsivity.

 

Today the warmth of truth,

skin against skin,

I do, did, will touch the world

when in my arms

she allows me to carry her heart.

 

My soul, your mystique,

my life, your love,

the beauty of passing time,

our energy real,

forever.

 

Sweet muse, sweet love,

in my soul I sing aloud,

I breathe freely,

my heart feels whole

knowing her.


In This A Somber Mist


I find the strength to move forward,

in the reminder of her beauty,

that which I could only grasp a real,

no longer any sweet fantasy.

I stand along a river edge in memory,

the sunlit banks of summer,

her hands in my hair, mine in her own,

we did know our surroundings.

 

In the wonder of time, my life an event,

now the curtains close and dust

begins to settle around the swept wood

where our dance would stir the world.

I, in fond retrospect, hold only one regret

when to imagine the elegance of love,

one could only hold on to dreams alone,

just nostalgic recall of her delight.

 

While every motion, each autumn stood near

we did a spectacular journey appreciate,

the hands of care , the eyes of certain demand.

Those were the minutes of our time.

Would love ever allow our reality to swoon,

in the shadow of a neighbor, a friend, child

we gathered strength to know the cause,

when time did finally spell our lives to part.

 

Oh to know the essence of what is this value love,

when pain and sickness do in place of real command.

 

 

 


I’m Still Here


I wonder sometimes when people glance,

if the resonate nature of being human

lasts beyond a moment,

just past the time it takes to see

whatever it is they need in their own lives

to respond accordingly.

 

I took a walk in early morning chill,

strolled past frosted windows,

ice sculptures lit with calendars,

made from ice cream tubs

consumed and cleaned and saved

for holiday accent the neighbors might see.

 

I wander through the world with certainty

brings me to my destination,

like a Simon and Garfunkel melody,

I seem to realize the world around me,

except to suggest any confidence

in anyone ever understanding me.

 

We all have secrets, paths, ambitions,

though seldom are we told,

to share our deepest plans with the person

just nearby without a care,

instead we keep the door open

to a new voice, perhaps the one that matters.

 

I have to step gingerly through my day

sometimes, in order to avoid the reckoning,

that part of me that defines my love.

Based on the neighborhood and quiet walks,

the eyes suggest so much otherwise,

that when I think of her I cry.

 

I always do look for those eyes that help guide me,

the ones that hold my soul wherever I may go.