deepundergroundpoetry.com
Water
Some days I soak my feet in your shallow cool water
and my feet are loved.
My toes splash in the puddle left by last night’s rain fall creating a spot of envy burning
on the soft white flesh just above my ankles.
It won't wash away.
The skin that runs the length of ankles to calves,
slightly tanned having been subject to your peace place sun café 7 a.m. good mornings,
is even more desirous of those tiny toes.
It begrudges my feet their puddle love play.
The thighs with which I show my impatience, my nerves, my sexual tension,
part and meet
cross and uncross
with constant moving moments that inhale impatience, exhale long drawn out seconds masquerading as zen
but I assure you that my cage is rattling.
Wishes, prayers, begging.
Silently as flesh does beg.
Silence and stillness.
Eyes focused, uninterrupted but seeing nothing around me.
I sit gazing from the spot within, where secrets of impetuous woman want flesh reside
and stay always smoldering, like embers in me.
I like to stoke the fire.
Carnal craving creature, I feel primitive rise and the sounds of my secrets have me heaving, sweating and just barely touching my
parting, crossing, parting, crossing thighs.
Caressing.
This fog is heavy on me, so heavy that I might just fall back upon the dirt, the rock, the sand
or the fire pit burning
and lay out for you my everything.
To be down low with dirt and man.
Pinned under you like rock and pressed up against the earth like I have roots.
Close in flesh to the fires of hell and close in ecstasy to the divine spaces of heaven.
I call out for Jesus but I look at you.
So that your wet love warm drips down upon me, carried on your heavy breath you drop in mounds,
sensually
along my thin hip bones and wide thigh curves.
Me with fire pit embers and you come bringing the rain.
Smoke rises and I wade in this love like water on the edges of riverbanks in dark early hours when secrets are sweet sweet sins.
I am quiet and it takes me to freedom.
You, with your shallow cool water that puddles at my feet,
so I am free
and my feet are loved.
and my feet are loved.
My toes splash in the puddle left by last night’s rain fall creating a spot of envy burning
on the soft white flesh just above my ankles.
It won't wash away.
The skin that runs the length of ankles to calves,
slightly tanned having been subject to your peace place sun café 7 a.m. good mornings,
is even more desirous of those tiny toes.
It begrudges my feet their puddle love play.
The thighs with which I show my impatience, my nerves, my sexual tension,
part and meet
cross and uncross
with constant moving moments that inhale impatience, exhale long drawn out seconds masquerading as zen
but I assure you that my cage is rattling.
Wishes, prayers, begging.
Silently as flesh does beg.
Silence and stillness.
Eyes focused, uninterrupted but seeing nothing around me.
I sit gazing from the spot within, where secrets of impetuous woman want flesh reside
and stay always smoldering, like embers in me.
I like to stoke the fire.
Carnal craving creature, I feel primitive rise and the sounds of my secrets have me heaving, sweating and just barely touching my
parting, crossing, parting, crossing thighs.
Caressing.
This fog is heavy on me, so heavy that I might just fall back upon the dirt, the rock, the sand
or the fire pit burning
and lay out for you my everything.
To be down low with dirt and man.
Pinned under you like rock and pressed up against the earth like I have roots.
Close in flesh to the fires of hell and close in ecstasy to the divine spaces of heaven.
I call out for Jesus but I look at you.
So that your wet love warm drips down upon me, carried on your heavy breath you drop in mounds,
sensually
along my thin hip bones and wide thigh curves.
Me with fire pit embers and you come bringing the rain.
Smoke rises and I wade in this love like water on the edges of riverbanks in dark early hours when secrets are sweet sweet sins.
I am quiet and it takes me to freedom.
You, with your shallow cool water that puddles at my feet,
so I am free
and my feet are loved.
Published 6th Feb 2013
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
likes 2
reading list entries 0
comments 2
reads 93
Commenting Preference:
The author encourages honest critique.
6th Feb 2013 6:09pm
This is wonderful. I must say you created a very well played mental image in my head with the imagery. It is also very in depth in the sense that I could feel myself getting closer to the screen and wanting more. Well done, bravo!
6th Feb 2013 10:43pm
Thank you so much :) I started this in Mexico a month or so ago and it sat unfinished and torturing me until last night. I so happy to have it out and finished and enjoyed.
Thanks again.
Thanks again.
