Canvassing Intimacies

All dressed up with somewhere to go, I leave my shy nature at home. “Surety can make such a determined woman,” I think, while finalizing my plans of attack. Heading south and listening to the voice of one sweet, sweet hungry voice, my level of confidence could not be more: the cat will pounce her pray when she wants to play. I seek fun tonight.

Rouged lips and teasing eyes have never been quite so dangerous. The heat of a man may withstand the fire in a woman, but when it comes to ice, felines are quite cold. Straight and narrow are my eyes; I can only see one thing. I only know one thing// desire. Fixed in my intentions, I am cool and collected.

Emotional creatures are perceived as weak. This notion, taken for granted, declines to expose the strongly held belief that passion is never feeble. I park my car and check my makeup. I smack my lips and primp my hair. I am ready for the battle.

And in your place of comfort, I begin to see sanguine characters dash across the walls. They speak to me in riddles of things only the few know- like what it means to see bronze.

To bend or shake I kneel on marbled floor, fit for few like me. I stop motion like an ice storm, and your gaze meets my eyes- my russet vision of things to come. I lower my body with outstretched hands, placing all power into your possession.

You come to me like toxic smoke billowing through the air, grab my amber strands, and bring me to my feet. My daring eyes set eager lips upon my own- two appetites run parallel.

And you divulge the secret// we both drink from the same honeyed infernality. To drive down as far as each of us could go, the effrontery of it all: shame will not exist for the following assignation, only deliverance… as I deliver my body unto your rough and steady hands. Hands that blazed crimson my pale flesh.

(Red is a color that adorns cheeks; a hue associated with discomfiture. However, it can also tinge the face while experiencing the freeing of tribulation.)

Because at the moment when teeth pierce skin, strength surges through, and asserting ill thoughts does not seem so difficult: “I want you to hurt me like I’ve never been hurt before. I want you to touch me, in a way I’ve never been touched before.”

Under the weight of you, I find security (writhing hips have never moved so fervently before). With your hands around my neck, I ascend to a place where few ever go. A concept of sepia with hot breath upon my ear, for a minute we are art…for a minute I am artistry.