A sacred second

It was a few days ago.  I was back at that intersection.  I had to go downtown, cover a story.  My mind was on that.  Or at least it was supposed to be.  The nearby street was too busy so I thought I will travel down another street and take that.  True, I would be going close to where I should not, but I would not think of that.  No I had a purpose to distract me.  Well maybe that is what I could tell myself.  That is until I came to the intersection.

Getting ready to take a right, traffic held me up.  I looked into the oncoming traffic, and there she was.  My first reaction was shock.  She didn't notice me.  A second stare, and I saw that... well... maybe it wasn't her.  Regardless, it made me think of her.  Of her friendship.  Fast and furious.  Lives lived in laughter.  Memories of playing the joke of telling her I could make her hand smell like strawberry.  Mad chases.  Her taking me to dance... HONK!  The cars behind me brought me back.  The right lane was clear.  I had to go.  But in that flash of the sacred second of memory, I smiled.


   

A second sacred

New Order - Confusion (Pump panel remix)

The passion had danced.  In building waves they crashed onto the shore.  Energy crescendo, followed by a moment of retreat, only to return more intense the frenzied hunger of the last hour had carried.  The walls served as silent witness to the play. In the aftermath, the tussled compliance of the bed displayed even its exhausted willingness.

But now, she stood to the side.  Her skin shone despite distraction.  It radiated the latent longing to remain though she would have to leave.  Her mind tormented as she had to go all the while her heart pressed for pause.  In looking at her, he too, was desperate for her to stay.  She was more beautiful than she would ever know.  Even if she was looking away.  Caught in the crisis of a looming deadline.  He knew.  He didn't like it, but he knew.  

In the battle of brain over body, his primal cry was defining.  He decided to form his own protest.  If she couldn't stay he would absorb all that was her.  If she had to rush, he was determined to savor every moment... every movement... every... second.  But had the waves ceased or were they only building to a epic Tsunami?  A question for each passing, each building, second.

She was in the middle of a reluctant recession.  She had already donned the stylish black shirt.  She was preoccupied.  Her mind caught in the contrast.  She longed to stay, but she had to go... she had to.  The little death took a small silent portion of her mind.  She had to focus.  She had to get ready.

But he, he could see.  He observed in silent wonder.  The fabric clung and caressed her supple and delicate form.  The textured fabric stood in stark contrast to the smoothness of her neck.  Her perfectly formed almost arrogant breasts jutted proudly forth  She pulling up the matching black shorts.  The air thickened by the presence of passions building between the two.  Her desperate longing to stay was the whispering call of the siren in her mind.  His desire stalked like a puma waiting for the moment.  The second.  The time to strike.  His eyes focused.  The time would arrive soon, he knew.

The perfect time arrived when she had her hands occupied.  They were busy placing the sharp silver accent of the earring into her ear.  This is when his stalk began the slow advance.  In a movement slow but strong he began to stoke along her inner thigh.  He could see the desire build in her eyes.  Her movements to attach the pin to the earring slowed.  His hand steady, intent, rose.  Her eyelids grew heavy with desire.  His hand passed the cuff of her shorts.  Higher and higher.  Her eyes closed.  Her hands froze while his hands rose, higher and higher.

Standing slowly he moved behind her.  One hand continued its rise.  His other hand moved towards her stomach.  While her hands remained frozen, her eyes remained closed focusing on the desire building in her soul.  Her only movement was to press her body back and lean into his advance.  His hand traced along the periphery.  Back and forth, The slow advance followed by the retreat.  The Tsunami was building.  His other hand circled around her trembling stomach feeling her craven yearning wanting, waiting, desperate for release.

Yet he continued the trace.  The build. Until...

In a turning lean, she revealed her consuming desire.  Passions primal erupted, with a silken slide the Rubicon was crossed.  Passion fell in an engulfing deluge as the crest of primal waves of passion fell over the two.  In a response to the primitive the two forgot all save the other.  Eden would be reclaimed, if only for a moment.  In this moment were time was supposed to be all, the two would hold off time, if only to spare another second in the sacred.

Dark side shelter

Spain- So far away

The dark side
Passed as a shelter
For the advance of guarded touches
Despite the lights
In the distance
The hour
might prevent
The passerby
From
The try
To look
At the divided
Figures
Cautious trace
Looking for a sign
Calculating all
Way beyond
What was needed
But both
Desperate to become
One
Uneasy grins
Thoughts furious flow
Through the mind
As each step closer offers
Opportunity
Or
Desperately Decimated
If they only could cease to see
With their eyes
And surrender
Desperately tiptoeing the tripwire
Of building desire
Desperately waiting
For the ignition of the smoldering
Then
The lean
As the lips of he
Pressed
Towards the full ripe longing lips
Of the she
Her eyes
filled with desire
Closed as she
Desire driven rushed
To meet his advancing embrace
Pulling him
Into her
Fire
Where
There was no lie

Funny

Foo Fighters - Everlong

     It happened earlier last week.  It was an old poem: Funny word.  A poem I had written specifically for her.  It was over the name of the color of her dress.  I remembered the photo... so did she.  I used a memory drawn from the obscure colors of the 64 count crayola box.  I was wrong.  She knew.  She knew immediately.

     Who was it?  It was her.  The most beautiful girl in town.  Most people wouldn't know.  They might have only looked on the outside.  Which was incredible, don't get me wrong.  The subtle dancing of her hips when she walked.  Her seemingly unknowing ability to kill with her smile.  The fire that smoldered in her eyes.  She was fatal in beauty but I loved here for the savageness of spirit that she kept so well hidden.  Her observant eyes, her tender spirit.  A touch that could give life as easily as it took it away.  And as you can imagine, if you were allowed entry into her heart, that only exponentially increased all she did.  The gilded gauze that made her shine.  While love is blind... I was her friend.  This means I kept one eye open.  I choose to remember though I can recall all.
   
    Could she have been looking at it?  Maybe.  I felt that excited joy inside.  The same false hope that arises each time someone wants to befriend me on Facebook.  All I see is the request.  Excitement erupts, although I know full well it won't be from her.  It never will be,  But that doesn't kill the leap of hope.  That is until I strangle it back.  

   So what of the poem.  It was written of an experience.  The photo.  A dance.  Which and where isn't important to his story.  It didn't matter.  You see, I was with her.  That was all that mattered.

     Music provided the excuse for us to press, one against the other.  For our souls to melt bleeding in the union that made our hearts beat as one.  Syncopated in beats and pauses.  We were caught in the precipice of l'amour fous, the burning love.  Desire, why it was allowed to boil.  Rolling and violent our passions were held until the pot was about to burst.  But you couldn't let it show.  Save in your eyes, which as always serve as a glorious window to the soul.  Striving to keep at bay the devouring passions was okay.  I could hold it back.  Like I said, I was with her... and that was all that mattered.

     Somewhere, someone, they  had a camera.  It was time for poses.  The capture of reality in a frozen moment... but what did the freeze display  I held her in a dip.  In my look at her you saw a man in exultation.  But that is inconsequential.  It was her.  In her look at the camera she exuded joy.  Her beaming smile defying any darkness that the world might bring against us.  I looked so fulfilled.  So did she.  At least to me.  At the end of the day, it was her and I, and that was all that mattered.

     So what happened to the picture?  All are cast out of Eden I suppose.  The fates must laugh.  I had clung to mine.  Forced to give it up, though it had already burned itself into my memory.  What of her?  I would discover that she had turned it in to some group in order to be a little sister to an organization.  Very precious.  No doubt they helped to teach her that a blow was the same as a kiss.  It wasn't really cheating.  Not really.  That crazy funny word fuchsia.  Though I had recalled  magenta.  Kind of funny isn't it?