Always wanting more than she can handle.

Photo on 2012-12-11 at 18.10 #2

Take it in happy like wine

Take it in the form of her parted lips

She deserves this.

The kiss…

The kiss that will end all other kisses.

The kiss that makes her swivel her hips and take a whiff

warm breath

exhaled by lover .

Left with no doubt of meaning.

Lusting,

Wanting…

good for you.

Getting,

Holding…

better for you.

So take.

Take the words given in the ache of a midnight

Take the information I give you.

Open her insides.

She waits. . .

she needs. . .

hair tangled hands to head to heat.

Meet and greet taking form of

warm body

holding down flesh of lover

taste of tongue savored.

Craving, real.

Passion, met.

Take these words in your mind and give her your lusting.

IMG_20120718_164750

Love Smeared

I need to make love and cry.

Heat up then cool down.

Say good bye.

Tingled toes so close to burn

and yearn and yearn and yearn and. . .

YEARN

Make the ache take the form of  O

Give me pleasure, give me pain, just give me…O

Your tussled hair my fingertips close

in on

I take in the aroma near your ear

In the corner of my grinning eyes…a tear…

Love smeared and echoed about the room the wine still on our lips. Wait let me try and taste yours, sour not sweet.

Just how I need them.

Breath in, swoon out.

Cum with love

Cum with shout

release

release

release

pass…out…

Lizzzzzzzzzzbeth

Her name?

Lizbeth.

But when she drinks and flirts she pronounces it, Lizzzzzbeth , extra pouty red lips and breath on the TH.

Cigarette in her left hand gin and tonic in the right.

Two revolvers tattooed on her chest…

 

The tattoos over her heart won’t keep it from breaking.

Nor will they lock it in when she tosses it out to yet another unworthy soul. She hungers for intense intimacy.

The kind she writes about… lips pressed, toes tingling, hearts bursting. Breakfast in bed not for a day or two but forEVER.

Someone that will look into her sobbing eyes, puffy and snuggled by the slick dripping mascara and eyeliner, and tell her she is not crazy.

Hold her close and whisper, “you are greatness even in falling . . . ”

The problem?

She needs the whispers to never end.

They can’t be there one day and gone the next.

To brutal.

She can’t bare the toss about.

But who could bare such a burden of carrying her to self worth when she burned up all her energy on the nurturing of others that she forgot, yet. . . again. . . to save any worth for herself.

So she keeps tossing out that heart.

Hoping for Super human.

Hoping he’ll come in the form of eternal smiles and forgivable flaws.

So, no one like her.

No one with tattoos to keep their heart in.

No one with eyes puffy day in and day out from the need to feel.

No one with yellow fingers tips from smoking and aching guts from drinking.

No, no one like her.

No one like Lizzzzzbeth. . .