She`a
Created | Updated Jan 26, 2011
Memories are a certain unkind kind of slow uncertainty,
not rushing. Fall all dainty. Much more,like a daisy chain
face is found trickling tickled by warming summers wind.
So slow often softened shadows slump shimmering in and out
of view. Silky-smooth silhouettes slip double ponder in,
Beget to come and get me shoulder in.
Through effects-affecting glow aflickering
Chance, can be so sensually prehensile, exhilarating.
Yes. She undresses with casualness, of innocence:
behind lace curtains, never sinned, been seen to be
accompanied by symphony's, whispering: Sin for me.
She moves slow, so licentiousness of impression is
following shadows mirage of angelic borrowings.
Venetian blinds kind back light, define detailed
Outlines: being filtered. Out-comes night’s opaque
black lace sails, shadowing seeping into virgin
white cotton curtains: flimsy-lee a fluttering.
No brush marks stark or blemished stain, remains
untamed. Immersing in interactivity into actively:
slipping amid palm, a warm, calming. Sensation
appears to be envisaging, as she begins fingering
that single Silken stocking-seductively seems she
begins conducting me inducting me too come to see .
Now imagining the circumstances beguiled
by scents and fragrances, all shadows glow
with inferences. No priest will hear what
I confess, pressed against space here safe
in my nest, Solace tastes: Sweet, tempting me.
Pale plain skin begins to take shapen-ed curves.
Angularity expanding: round Soft shadowed details,
emerging veil of soft edges, verging on virginal:
Urges found comfort in knocking knees like, first
loves blush rush on into me, nerves begin to incite.
Internal yearnings stirring from its smoothness
so soothing, push me pull me, so satisfying-lee moving,
so eternally slow So... yes I Know do I now go
Or do I stay, can I help her end her day,
will I thrill her or bring her horror.
She smiles at the moon, lunation gleams
within her mirror till her recollections
Slowly fill her, her first love still,
un-stills her, fills full her in her boots and stockings.
Till it seems as to the reality she of what she hoping,
is just not just a fantasy or dreams unbroken.
she breathes, in moment-tally reprieves loves tokens,
but choice selection secreted thoughts unspoken,
from fantasy she sees in jeans of what can be,
supple-you-cemented in genes,
brought forward on those occasions
when all is diffracted like lightening seams
attracted to dangers from reflected
‘looking back at me’
seems Vanishing cream can replace illusions.
Agreeing bright eyes gleam intrinsically,
listening to fast heartbeats symphony.
As the paint of day’s face evaporates;
seems that she never ever will consummate,
and conjugate this date: In her history.
She sees fall inverted in the mirror,
nearer now than its ever been: hope-full dreams
leaving with each layer, cleansed waves of days
melt into dusk and musky: memory,
of waking thoughts invoked of sensuality.
Reality's slipping through her fingers,
captivation lingers whispers like choir of
angels angelic singers. she concentrates
on those tingles tries to turn them into single
then with each one to commit and co-mingle.
Still refined, entwined to be combined
like Colombina to a harlequin,
alls not so black or white
but in those darker shades of night
there is no wrong or right
insight to fight those feelings,
with out emotionally revealing
more inclined to be an uninvited presence sent,
once more into kingdoms to carouse in fiefdoms
from scent that some pheromones are built on.
Like a predatory cat stretches before the kill,
excited eyes widen…then she reaches for the switch.
I twitch thrilled but unfulfilled.
not rushing. Fall all dainty. Much more,like a daisy chain
face is found trickling tickled by warming summers wind.
So slow often softened shadows slump shimmering in and out
of view. Silky-smooth silhouettes slip double ponder in,
Beget to come and get me shoulder in.
Through effects-affecting glow aflickering
Chance, can be so sensually prehensile, exhilarating.
Yes. She undresses with casualness, of innocence:
behind lace curtains, never sinned, been seen to be
accompanied by symphony's, whispering: Sin for me.
She moves slow, so licentiousness of impression is
following shadows mirage of angelic borrowings.
Venetian blinds kind back light, define detailed
Outlines: being filtered. Out-comes night’s opaque
black lace sails, shadowing seeping into virgin
white cotton curtains: flimsy-lee a fluttering.
No brush marks stark or blemished stain, remains
untamed. Immersing in interactivity into actively:
slipping amid palm, a warm, calming. Sensation
appears to be envisaging, as she begins fingering
that single Silken stocking-seductively seems she
begins conducting me inducting me too come to see .
Now imagining the circumstances beguiled
by scents and fragrances, all shadows glow
with inferences. No priest will hear what
I confess, pressed against space here safe
in my nest, Solace tastes: Sweet, tempting me.
Pale plain skin begins to take shapen-ed curves.
Angularity expanding: round Soft shadowed details,
emerging veil of soft edges, verging on virginal:
Urges found comfort in knocking knees like, first
loves blush rush on into me, nerves begin to incite.
Internal yearnings stirring from its smoothness
so soothing, push me pull me, so satisfying-lee moving,
so eternally slow So... yes I Know do I now go
Or do I stay, can I help her end her day,
will I thrill her or bring her horror.
She smiles at the moon, lunation gleams
within her mirror till her recollections
Slowly fill her, her first love still,
un-stills her, fills full her in her boots and stockings.
Till it seems as to the reality she of what she hoping,
is just not just a fantasy or dreams unbroken.
she breathes, in moment-tally reprieves loves tokens,
but choice selection secreted thoughts unspoken,
from fantasy she sees in jeans of what can be,
supple-you-cemented in genes,
brought forward on those occasions
when all is diffracted like lightening seams
attracted to dangers from reflected
‘looking back at me’
seems Vanishing cream can replace illusions.
Agreeing bright eyes gleam intrinsically,
listening to fast heartbeats symphony.
As the paint of day’s face evaporates;
seems that she never ever will consummate,
and conjugate this date: In her history.
She sees fall inverted in the mirror,
nearer now than its ever been: hope-full dreams
leaving with each layer, cleansed waves of days
melt into dusk and musky: memory,
of waking thoughts invoked of sensuality.
Reality's slipping through her fingers,
captivation lingers whispers like choir of
angels angelic singers. she concentrates
on those tingles tries to turn them into single
then with each one to commit and co-mingle.
Still refined, entwined to be combined
like Colombina to a harlequin,
alls not so black or white
but in those darker shades of night
there is no wrong or right
insight to fight those feelings,
with out emotionally revealing
more inclined to be an uninvited presence sent,
once more into kingdoms to carouse in fiefdoms
from scent that some pheromones are built on.
Like a predatory cat stretches before the kill,
excited eyes widen…then she reaches for the switch.
I twitch thrilled but unfulfilled.
