Laying there, one fleshy pale leg resting on top of yours. Layers of blankets hugging us to the bed, I pretzel and twist – one of my arms over my head, one of yours, over yours. I find your fingers with my left hand and you squeeze them, even though you are mostly asleep. I try to touch as much of my skin to yours as I can, curved like a bean next to you. I lay my head in the sweet spot that your body has made for it. Was made for it, long before I met you. When you were born, maybe. I put my right arm across your chest. I know you love this – a woman resting on your chest. “There is something so…satisfying…beautiful, about it,” you once said. Or something like it. And even years later there is an impression there, and an image in my head. It’s faded like a washed-out photograph. You know the one. And it doesn’t hurt anymore, but it’s there. Maybe it always will be. I decide it doesn’t matter and I start a poem in my head. God, it’s almost 4 a.m. and I am composing words as I feel you breathe. None of the words are good enough. Some of them don’t even make sense. I will never be good enough, my brain says. But you already are, I counter. Your thigh is twice the circumference as his. And it feels good for that not to be something I hate. It’s a non-issue. I take that back. It’s a celebration. Continue reading
Sensual Sunday is meant to be writing practice. I’m looking to hone my ability to write about sensual things or even to write sensually about regular things.
You Are Going Gray
The soft smell of your spice. Clove and salt tears.
Peachy, with black curls of hair, down, down, down.
Earthy musk, the taste of you…all of you.
Inside of me. Each space filled. And a woman has many spaces.
Slip, slide, into place. Nestle there. Rested there. In your hair.
The smell of the top of your head. Tickle, soft brown and pewter. Pewter…what a word. The color describes the soft turning of your fields from ripe wheat to stoney silver. You’re only more beautiful for it. But the word itself – pewter – is wrong because I don’t like the feel of it in my mouth. And everything about you feels so good in my mouth.
In the dark it’s hard to tell what year it is. Are we new or has it really been so many years? The smell of the building and your skin and these sheets and my own spent aromas, a perfume I know well. The sounds of the whirring fans, creaking branches just outside of our bedroom window, and your rhythmic breaths, just shy of a gentle snore, are such a familiar song. Leaves dance shadows on the wall thrown there by streetlights as they have always done since the first day I slept next to you. As you sleep, I watch them twist and rest.
I was looking around the internet for an illustration style to filter a photograph. I was specifically seeking an Arthur Rackham filter. Anybody who loves fairy paintings as much as I do has probably heard of Arthur Rackham. In searching for that, I came across this:
Pretty sexy huh? (Source)
Which is actually an image of a Kinuko Craft painting done in the Arthur Rackham style, from Playboy in the late 1970s. Yes, Playboy! Anyway, this illustration was done for something called “Goblin Market” by Christina Rossetti, which it turns out, is a poem I’ve never heard of. Below is an excerpt (it’s really long, y’all) and you can see the whole thing here.
Sensual Sunday is a weekly sensual micro-story, poem or word association. It’s mostly sexy writing practice. I encourage others to do Sensual Sunday – share your links with me!
Springing, showing, sliding, slipping, slowly
Budding, blooming, bouncing, bobbing,
Out, obediently, outrageously, obsessed
Popping, pink, purple, passion, persist
Firming, fragile, fractured, forward, facing
Poking, pouncing, pounding, poking, perspire
Dangling, dancing, dappled, delicious, dizzying
Tempting, touching, tearing, turgid, tenacious, temple
Worship, watching, wishing, wincing, warping
Rocking, rolling, rising, reeling
Swelling, spurting, shooting, streaming
Careening, calling, calming, collapsing
Serenely, softly, sleeping, spent, sated
What I Learned From You
that strawberries and basil actually go well together
and i will never eat them
that some flowery scents can smell sweet
and then sour
that some people can seem sweet
and then bitter
and some people will be mad at you for believing their lies
and make you the villain in their story
so they don’t have to own any blame