His invitation...

He showed me, he touched it
That place
Where sleep proclaimed sovereignty
Where desire crept amongst the shadows
I shudder
His invitation, that beckoning finger
Summoned by lips, drawing me closer
Until close, is no longer enough
Luring me towards warmth
Until softness is found, tender
He makes me blush…..

Stealing time without resistance
under clouds that shelter us from sun
Sensitivities gain shelter also
From the spectres of the past
‘Til the only thing looming
Is his wanting lips and my wanting of his
I quiver.

He showed me

He touched it

He seized my hand
And he removed it.

That dowdy disposition
I held in my want of grace
As I clumsily tried to contain
The stirring within
Of the intensity
Drifting through
The casual cauldron
Of a summer’s afternoon.

He found it
He held it up in his eyes
Reflecting it upon me
Like the silver lady of the moon
Mirrored
As a shimmer of magic upon the water
He retrieved those things
Which I thought I had lost
And returned them to me
His gift to my heart.

He showed me
He held a light to my beauty
And touched
That which I had ceased to feel
He found it
And he returned it to me…

His invitation...

LilyMunroe

Joined August 2008

  • Artist
    Notes

Artist's Description

And the good prince kissed her red lips
Breathing new life into her Chrysalis.

She kissed goodnight those delicate things
From darkened nights of soul
And as she lay them down to rest
The dawn began to glow

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