Friday, May 31, 2013

The dance of seeds...

He doesn't want me the way I want to be wanted. 

I want him to ask me if it turned me on.
I want to tell him yes.

I want him to really see me watching the stars. To watch me watching and know what I see. To tell me he does. 

To comment on the golden kiss the evening light favours me with. 

To always be interested in the furrow of my brow, the way I tilt my head, the smile a breeze brings.

The way I cross my legs. 

Wiggle my toes.

I want to know. 

The eyes to tell me.

The voice in its desire.

I want the soft caress of the breeze in his mouth.

On my thighs.

I need the dance.


The dance of seeds.