bedukay

A little something I wrote in honor of the frustruation, heartache and loss I feel now:

Too Little, Too Late, Too Often
I miss tasting the sweet heat of passion on your breath,
the elegant, firm, supple and proud curve of your breasts,
I still can feel my hands tracing them from their origin on your chest,
quickly up and around their unique arcs,
to their tips, the nipples with their nerves ,
electricfying underneath the skin,
waiting for grounding and redirection.
I miss your eyes and the deep understanding,
we shared when we could stare into each other,
I'd never done that before,
Until you made me feel loved and accepted,
Your body made me feel welcome,
I was wanted by you, all of you,
the sweet, easing embrace of your yoni,
patient and yearning for me,
was macrocosmically manifest by your warm, strong arms,
wrapping around me, touching me, holding me,
drawing me closer,
I could feel your life is on your breath,
I could feel the throbbing of your heart,
Underneath your lips,
Blood flush with endorphins and pheremones,
Telling us we belonged there,
Performing this cosmic, timeless prayer,
So that the universe might know joy and communion,
Through the balance, passion and understanding,
Only you and I were there,
In my mind and my heart,
I was always pure to you,
Never has self-sacrifice and giving meant,
As much as it did when we embraced like,
Only we as lovers could.




(c) Al Roberts 2005