How time flies and after all these years, I found this unsent letter (and others…some left unfinished) with some unsent poems…all to you and for you.
Your kisses confound my senses and leave me dizzy and unsure of where I am; they have me breathlessly reaching for you, my harbor. My eyelids squeeze shut and there’s only the blackness of the chasm, the void. Searching fingers seek purchase in your hair. If this is a dream, I don’t want to awaken. My lifeline in this turbulent sea of our lusty love is your hand holding mine, our fingers intertwined.
I do not create neologisms…unless ohmygod! counts; but I wonder how many women before me had the same prayer is the throes of heated passion? Besides your monosyllabic name, ohmygod! is the only other word I cry out as you make me yours.
I loved the look you continually gave me that one evenings as you sat in the chair by the window in our Vegas suite talking to someone on facebook while I dried my hair after our shower. Impatient, your sigh spoke volumes and so I set aside my brush and met your gaze with my own. How you made me giggle when you set aside your computer and came to bed demanding satisfaction. Your guttural moan of pleasure moments later also spoke volumes.
Remember when we first began talking and I said I wanted you to bite me…not draw blood. You argued that nibbles were better. I countered with animal bites of lust. Then, that first night I said, “Do you know what I want?” “No. What?” “Bite my neck.” “Ohhh, I can do that!” I squealed with passionate joy when you rolled me over, rode me prone to the bed, and, like a wolf, grabbed hold of the side of my neck from the behind me, growled, and…
I am wet just remembering and sharing that memory in in this letter to you. Now I have to go find my toys and wait for you to call.
© Mimi Wolske, November, 2010
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