Chemistry

“The meeting of two personalities is like the contact of two chemical substances: if there is any reaction, both are transformed.” ― C.G. Jung

A bit of a mystery,

this thing called chemistry:

that inexplicable spark,

ignited from the depths of the loins

or Heart,

where connection starts.

The lean in – 

straight, no chaser –

is a little closer,

paying careful attention.

Two ships stopping,

not wanting to miss anything.

A stirring on the inside,

butterflies,

a yearning to learn

who resides

on that side;

how songs are played

on that life’s stage.

Chemistry,

no rhyme,

no reason-

simply the right season;

a destiny fulfilled

as per God’s Will.

 

 

The Bulge

there It is:

The Bulge.

on full display;

i cannot seem to

look away,

to focus on the richness

of what he had come

to say.

on The Bulge,

my eyes linger

as my mind wanders:

what does it

look like,

feel like

when released

and fully unleashed?

how tall does it stand?

i imagine its feel

in my hands,

its taste in my mouth

when I’ve made my way down, South.

No!

Will not go nowhere

by going there.

I force my gaze,

my thoughts

way up, North.

we lock eyes-

yikes, I’ve been caught!

eyes, now shut,

i blush.

the heat,

the guilt,

the stench

of shame

rises,

takes a seat,

whispers

familiar recriminations

in my ears.

I just want to disappear!

The Bulge

brought

desperation,

longing,

latent sexuality

to the uncomfortable fore,

much too near…

here come the tears…

shedding-as always-

internally.

Penetration

What does it take

to penetrate

the walls you make

for protection’s sake?

How do I get

to you

into you

through you?

What am I to do?

I come,

you run;

I confide,

you hide;

I offer space,

you then hesitate.

What does it take

to penetrate

your mind

your heart

your body

your soul?

How to release

some of that control

to which you hold

as if it is gold?

A body so tight,

a mind attuned to fight

or flight.

Yet, underneath,

I see a spirit

seeking an invite,

desperate for a way out.

When you are ready

to let me in,

to be the feminine

to my masculine,

I’ll come running.

When you are

no longer so scared,

I’ll be there.

When your mighty walls

finally

crumble and fall,

I offer myself

at our beck and call.

 

 

the kiss

still,

the most perfect

of my life.

back then,

I, a relative neophyte,

standing in unfamiliar land

with a seasoned ladies’ man.

he, skilled in the art of

seduction and tease.

me, scared, excited

and so very intrigued.

he, leans in

confidently.

me, inside, trembling

nervously.

our lips

lock

instantaneously.

my heart

stops-

literally.

in me,

some things have shifted-

a veil, heavy weights

have been lifted.

suddenly, inexplicable-

as if from an old

body memory-

I can give

and receive

pleasure

in equal measure.

exploring, digging ever deeper,

for boundless treasure

within, first, myself

and, then thus, the “other.”

I am

no longer me, no we-

just utter and complete transparency.

I have become untethered and free!

the depth, the intensity,

makes me oh so heady!

the Kiss

becomes an intricate dance-

at times, a fiery flamenco,

next a little funky disco-

we’re lost inside an exquisite trance.

so sublime,

we’ve no sense of space and time.

who am I?

 

Chuma

He lays there,

soundly and peacefully

asleep-

my Muse, my Love, my Beauty.

Strong and magnificent,

a man’s Man,

vulnerable in his complete nakedness.

I, fully awake and scantily clothed,

quietly gazing, utterly enthralled,

taking Him in slowly, fully and whole.

His beautiful mane,

dreadlocked and soft,

glistening wet in the moonlight from our sweat.

His Adam’s Apple – an irresistible and tasty treat.

Those lips – full, rich, assertive and so sweet.

My Love’s nose: broad and proud!

His nostrils, gently flaring now in sleep,

do so much more aggressively

when he abandons himself in heat.

I stare at Love’s powerful arms,

responsible for my first losing my resolve,

and within which I still dissolve.

His large and elegant hands,

that of a master musician demands.

His expansive back,

a continent of its own,

I can see it in shadow,

its every muscle, prominent and toned.

My eyes longingly linger down

to that beautiful mound

smooth and round-

like a perfect peach,

each one of his cheeks.

Next: those legs –

like that of a regal thoroughbred.

Legs strong enough to

off my feet, sweep

carrying me

to this here, our bed, our sacred Sanctuary.

I go to him, My BeLoved,

drawn by forces without and within,

those of innocence and sin.

I need to touch,

to feel,

to inhale him,

to lay entwined in a quiet embrace,

to get as close as the flesh will dictate.

 

 

L’homme Délicieux

how is it possible that God could have poured

so much deliciousness in just one Cup?

it is simply too much for another to sop up!

blowing the mesmerized mind every time,

man delicious,

can’t look at ya,

can’t look away.

your utter exquisiteness

holds such sweet sway.

too fine,

you personify sublime.

so damn divine,

like a delectable glass of rare, perfectly aged wine.

beyond luscious,

you overpower, disarm and intoxicate!

how then does a mere mortal adequately navigate?

enthralled, thrown, spellbound,

I ask my Lord:

why so much scrumptiousness into one Cup you poured?