No Wonder

The Problem With Fantasies

The problem with fantasies is that I tend to make them realities and you may end up getting exactly what you thought you wanted, whether you wanted it or not.

The Problem

The problem is... The problem has always been that everything reminds me of you, and there is not enough time with you, for me to tell you how.

Thoughts Noir

Dreams own me as they once owned you,

Love in flux, odd and as uncertain

As the next flick of the crop

Or tender touch, one after the other

To your perfect, swollen, pink clit.

Dreams. Not imagination, but something deeper,

A recognition of what lives inside us both,

You a siren from the forties, but less dressed,

Waiting forever for the pleasure and pain

I cannot help but offer, both of us somehow,

Enslaved.

Too Perfect

She is perhaps too perfect, too close, and at the same time too far away. Owned but only in the moments she is in need of the particular passion you offer, the only way you know how to love, an odd mix of tender and madness, too much for some, for most perhaps, but all you have.

A Particular Love

I have a particular love

Of desecrating the innocent,

Particularly

Those who do not think they are.

It is always nice to find one of my poems from my Other Poems site so I can reclaim them here.

Love and Surrender

Look at you. All you want. So much more than you imagined possible when you, tentatively and soft admitted you might like.. a little submission. Maybe. Just a bit.

But that is not how it works. You know that now As you surrender a bit, and a bit more still. Baby steps down the rabbit hole to your nature, happiest now

in a place you never imagined, with marks on your skin and marks on your soul and a need to give, and surrender, and belong to me, in ways you never thought possible.

And yet, are, and even more than are, leaving you hungry to fall deeper still, becoming a creature of love and surrender, full of need to become perfect, to know you are enough.

You always were, But now, you know.

The Sounds of Darkness

You can sense things. Hear my footsteps, or at least you believe they are mine, believe you are safe even in the darkness.

But the longer you are in the dark, you become less sure. Others want you. You know this. And they might or might not fill you as I do. They may be too much or too little, too kind or too cruel. You have lived and loved enough to know the truth of it.

And so you wait. Hopeful. Afraid. Unsure. Until you hear my voice and feel my touch tender on your love bound skin. "I will love you. " "I will love you forever." And you know now, whatever the pain to come, you are safe. You are loved.

Beyond Expectations

I know what you are expecting. I can tell by the speed and depth of your breath. By the flush of your cheeks. By the way you nervously pull at your bonds, eyeing the implements of pain you so often need and fear.

But not tonight. No. Tonight, bound, you will be forced to endure nothing but my admiration, Caresses. Words of love. Gentle kisses everywhere. Adoration. Almost more than you can bear, so tender, you cry.

Again

From across the room, I watch. I have seen you naked. I have seen you with walls. I have seen you unbridled, surrendered, wild. I have heard you cry out and heard you cry. Seen you bound and seen you free. And in all I have seen, I have loved you. And will love you still when I see you naked, no matter its form, again.