Photo by Jorge Fakhouri Filho from Pexels

laying flat,
my arms outstretched
for you
waiting, ready

an open book
I’m yours
when you need me

the wolf calls,
dear moon mother
lights the
silvery path,

journey within,
follow, submit
gateway of joy

I am She
fulfillment pure

you are He
my sweet delight
indulgence mine


If You’ll be Mine Again

if you’ll be mine again
priceless between the sheets
back under your influence
I’ll take you to that place
where you left me

watching the golden sunrise
over the north sea, heaven
shimmering like the haze
over the Grand Canyon
that Spring day, remember?

Autumn is my favourite season
in our lives we are both there
playing in fallen leaves
crimson like they were
when we were children

it’s bright and crisp now
after the summer rain,
two divided by the torrent:
love washed away by my red flood,
hurricane rush of ill-timed blood

summer wasted, ripe for salvage
I can keep you warm
on a frosty morning
like your hot cocoa
(with at dash of schnapps)

nothing like living on the edge
sweet abandon, blessed bliss
your kiss, still moist on my cheek
missed it’s target, yet …
I’m back in that place

waiting for you to see sense
(you will one day) in my arms
forever entwined we’ll be
looking down from paradise
when you will be mine again

From within

Taken, twisted,
words split,
tives: to unconditionally love.

The thrill of mystery,
I’m used, abused,
spat out: the
agony of desire.

The devil inside
is my friend,
not evil:
part of me.

Exorcise your demons,
they say. No,
embrace them,
make them your allies.

In another life
I’m happy, a
universe: my dream.

I find him,
waiting for me
in his bed,
arms open, naked.

I surrender, I did long ago,
if only he’d listened.
His lips kissed,
heaven once.

His arms, bliss,
the warmth of him,
sublime, I
could never have enough.

I am his vessel,
his ship to eternity.
I take him
to the spring of imagination.

He will not forget his debt,
my price, my flame:
to consume
innocently, his innocence.

Redemption guaranteed


The greatest con artist since Old Nick should never have gone to Heaven, but there it was in black and white.

We approached the pearly gates wearing the usual grey robes. I was tired, and he offered to carry my sickle. Peter let him through and sent me to Hell.

Someday, I’m going to teach Peter modern punctuation.

Accost, harvest, stop redemption. Guaranteed stop. Beware deception.

(My latest 75-word-challenge entry. Theme: redemption. Genre: Fantasy)