Thank you just starting to feel my way around here. Nice to meet so many on here xxx

And thank you both

No no, that was only a quote from one of my short stories.. the rest is not there. Too erotica for a forum LOL.

This is a part of an erotic short story :)

beautifully written, terribly sad

Thank you

Written, January 24, 1989


The warnings, they come
In waves and in whispers
Begging for all angels
To protect your heart

The passion, it surges
Throughout your soul
Causing a deep ache
That breaches the wall

Then loneliness calls
Wanting to feel
The sensuality burn
Like a long lost friend

The flesh, takes hold
Intoxicating
Blurring the mind
Inviting the pleasure

The fight, it begins
To keep in control
Because your loss
Will be too much to bear

The battle is lost
You melt into the void
In the dark of day
You are empty again

The wall is rebuilt
Stronger this time
And harder than stone
To keep angels out

AND the warnings they come . . . in waves and in whispers

That's a lot of quotes :)

One does what one must.
*curtsies*

And unfortunately so very truthful. Thank you

In the midst of my despair
You were the voice in the darkness
The invisible fingers reaching out
For me to grasp with my frantic hand

Others had found me floundering
They saw an advantage for themselves
They played my insecurities
Reminding me I was not worth it all

They crushed my spirit and heart
Bounced it, broke it and left it destroyed
Yet they never ruined the spark of love
That refused to give up and hid in my soul

I was spinning out of control
Convincing myself I was in charge
That the woman who I let others see
Was the only part that was still alive

But you came, and saw behind my eyes
You took the time to coax out the spark
And set it afire in your hands
With the love from your heart

In your love I bloomed and grew
We molded together in the winds of time
You found what you were missing in me,
I found my perfect fit in you

But the fates are cruel
The body heart and souls may fit
But the worlds could not.
So here we are again

We have become the voices in the darkness.
The longing in the eyes, the ache in the heart
But the memory of finding such a perfect love
Can never be taken from us


Written o6/11/11
Please do not copy or share without permission

Fabulous!

Thank you, it just flows out of me at times. Like my dance. It is a way of expression that may not always make sense to all.

Thank you for the welcome and kind words.

That is how I feel today :)

I have much to say and much I have written. I could publish a very strange, eclectic, erotic, sad, insightful book if I had the time. Maybe one day!

M

The moonlight drenches the court yard competing with the many small torches to brighten the night.
Faces and bodies circle around the cobbled stone ground. She walks to the center of the circle slowly. She knows no one. Here, she is a stranger. She does not look at the faces but they can see her eyes. They shine with a radiance not commonly found….like sapphires in candle light.

The crowd was noisy, but she does not hear. The haunting voice of the songstress begins and the crowd hushes. A low silent note accompanied but a flute drifts over her; flowing within her. Her eyes now closed; not thinking only feeling. She raises her arms up above her head, stretching her body, arching her back and reaching to the stars. Her head rolls slowly from side to side opening her soul to the music. It melts into her as the drums begin, the rhythm devoured by every muscle in her body. Her hips begin to shake and shimmy in barely contained passion. The tempo increases…she opens her eyes and flashes them to the faces around her. She is now the music.

Her bare feet move stepping deliberately towards one or another of the mesmerized watchers. She moves in fluid motion; she is the drum beat pounding. Never missing one moment, her sensuality is open for all to see.

They are speechless...no one moves, no one speaks they only can watch. Hips drop and rise with an intensity that makes some blush. But not her, this is her passion her soul bare. She grabs her skirts with intensity as she spins and twirls; her blouse falling off one shoulder baring it. A vision of color and beauty blending into the darkness, yet completely separate.

Faster and faster the players play, faster and faster she slithers and grinds; rises and circles. Her heart in time with the drummer; her breath in time with the wind; she loses all thought but her connection with this moment. She hears nothing but the sound of the notes being played. She spurred on by them and them by her. It is like two lovers absorbed in each other, lost forever in the moment of passion.

The crescendo approaches, the crowd hold their breath she explodes in intimate dance as none have ever seen. Sadness, fire, passion, happiness, anger, love all emotions at once pour out of and around her as the music reaches its climax.

No one breathes……


As she slows her movements and moves snake like back to the spot where she began her dance; the musicians who are now part of her, flow the rhythm to her steps. She lowers her head and opens her eyes to look at the many silent faces around her. Her long hair wild about her shoulders giving an almost animal look to her. Her breath slows; the music stops; all but the haunting voice of the songstress.

The silence finally comes. It is deafening and no one dares to speak. She turns from the crowd and the moonlight caresses her. She walks back into the night leaving all in awe and wondering about what they had just witnessed from the beautiful, blue eyed gypsy dancer.


Please respect writer and do not copy or share without permission

Thank you

Age-less
Please respect the artistry of the author and do not copy or share without permission.

She stands in the mirror, naked and alone in her thoughts.
When did she get here?
Her eyes meeting eyes in the mirror; still holding the spark of her younger days. Sensual memories of playful indiscretions and secret lovers. She smiles and gently touches the lines which appear on her face.
How did she get here?
Wasn’t she only 21 last week? Dancing until dawn and not a care in the world! Singing at the top of her lunges not caring who heard. She is still that little girl; the feisty young gypsy somewhere deep inside…the one who sang to the trees, played in the rain, danced under the bright moon and sat for hours in the grass listening to the birds sing. Who always followed her heart and was so impulsive but yet so tender to those around her. Who could always get what she wanted. Who loved with the intensity of a flame. Who could enrapture a man with a look. Who could talk a kitten out of a tree.

Does anyone still see her? She is still here!

Her fingertips run over her face so softly drawing each line or trying to erase them; she is not sure. The bits of grey at her temples scream out once again needing to be covered to hide a bit of her age. She touches her throat, running fingers down over her color bone skin so soft….then notices her hands….so like her grandmother’s hands…skin beginning to loosen and crease.
When did she get here?
Eyes meet eyes in the mirror again….this time with tears yet to be shed.