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LA Lorena - 2


Blush

my fingers itch to impart
inky lines upon pale pages
for your pleasure
 
 
A wanton need fulfilled when
wrapped metaphors shroud me
in mystery
and veiled intentions wear clever disguises
 
 
cloaked in lace imagery
I prettily beg to be peeled back
layer by layer
to expose that hidden and secret
inner core
 
 
I blush
 
 
I need you
 
 
only you can undress me
gently pry apart my lines
tenderly palpate stanzas
and oh so lovingly
coax my intentions
to the surface
​

There

I'll not let on
I carry on composed. stoic
my surface granite encrusted
memories live, breathe, feel
eyes dead hollow
long since drowned in depths of earthy brown
 
I walk a different ocean's shores
yet those breezes ever carry
the co-mingled and lingering scent of love
Chanel Senuelle Allure and heady musk
odor settles like cumulus
permeating every pore
infused with every ragged breath
Inhale.  I take you in.
you enter and seek solace in my depths
 
Air electric.  atoms charged
every nerve and fibre at attention
you fill me
I see you everywhere
strain for that touch
 
No matter the time, space, or distance between
drawn and written lines and words of past and present
 
I ache, yearn, hunger
close my eyes to truth.  Exhale
I still feel you...
   There

Picture


​LA Lorena's Profile

Go to page 1 of LA Lorena's Poetry

Bain de Soleil

I offer myself unto your altar
barely dressed
moist
scented and oiled
in repose
throat exposed
back arched
lick the swells of my ample breasts
gently kiss my sensitive inner thighs
I feel your heat
as you find mine
I am yours
and I am prepared to worship you
 
I bask in your glow
take me now
paint me all over
with a golden hue

Can You Keep a Secret?

every year, every blessed year
since he walked into my life at the age of 19
when I really didn't need or want, a father figure
to replace the one who died (or so I thought)
he gave me chocolates
 
 
Ferrero Rocher to be precise
 
proudly selected and wrapped by him
and placed in my Christmas stocking
every year, without fail
 
countless thousands
of milk chocolate and hazlenut enrobed candies later
(and many years after his death)
I still receive a box or two from well meaning souls
who carry on this tradition in his absence
 
 
Until the day I die, I will never let on...
 
 
I hate those damn things and always have
Just never had the heart to break his heart
I will choke them down with the tears
 
over sweet chocolate made bittersweet
with good intentions
​
​
Picture
Go to Page 1 of LA Lorena's Poetry.

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