Wind is speaking with a lover’s chant
beating breath against my neck in rhythmic yes.
Water holding liquid space like orgasmic shockwaves
pulse and push in pleasure places.
Wanton whispers insist their way through my skin
and touch Heart’s throbbing space
and continue to move through my vessel.
Unseen Lover’s touch matches my rise and fall;
bodies in a pleasure ballet of sensory dance.
Diving deep in Love’s holy grip.
I won’t go back.
I won’t look back.
Where is it I would go?
I can’t go back.
Love’s grip holds my chaste heart
with tender mercy and violent passion.
Love issues wave after wave of passion’s pleasure
and heaven’s peace into the desert of my heart.
I am loved.
I am fucked.
I am powerful.
I am priestess and virgin,
mother and whore,
crone and courtesan.
My desert has become paradise,
an oasis of pleasure.
I am yours.
Photo credit: ‘Into The Wind’ by Robert Dawson