The Sanctity of One With You….
She would die for you...
to touch you..
to become that sanctity of one with you...
She's drowning in a sea of ecstasy
waiting for her drug to kick in...
Deeper she cries...
deeper inside where the nightmares dwell
You voice distant
to far off to hear...
yet the slightest moan
she feels to the core,
it burns,
it twists
ike a knife
tearing her apart...
She's waiting for you...
wondering
how you can sleep through
the dance of her fingers,
the caress that gives you chills...
are you asleep she wonders...
She would die for you....
she hungers for you...
she couldn't wait for you
so she embraced
her own flight through Eden....
not alone...with you....
after all it tis her fantasy.
A naughty rhythm streams
through her body,
the ache too much to bear,
the desire
its fire out of control,
she touches you,
she whispers "wake up....play with me..."
left to the devices of silence
and still moments she tries again....
"I want you....let me have you..."
a gentle kiss
caresses his shoulder blade
as her body slithers away
like the snake into the forest floor,
her breast erect;
pulsating with warmth,
between her panties
she's deliciously wet
but alas still is the night,
silent is his motions....
she can't stop what already began........
her fingers are met
by the rushing waters that flow,
crippled the creek
in its motion as her body moves
bring her near...
one caress,
two caress;
in between
lies him
and the once blank wall...
her canvas now
shadows reflect from the televisions
silent light,
she hushes herself afraid to let go
to the point of tears,
its too late –
the soft moan escapes
into the darkness of light
she creates while you slept
away the dream...
her body grows rigid
in the moment of pleasure’s bliss,
she would die for you, she wanted you
but tonight...
he didn't awaken to her calls –
calls like the wolf's
lonesome howl in the moonlight....
now her body relaxes but strangely
she's still hungry....
"more" she whispers into the silence of motion,
the rhythm of desire,
left to the devices of lust,
hunger, a need to feed,
a need to feel the skin
beneath her nails
as she releases her exotic screams....
the dream reels on the blank canvas...
the wall she danced upon...grew dim
waiting to get close to you,
to be part of you...
to become that sanctity
of one with you...
© Kristy Tallman, March 28, 2009
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