The Goodbye

Bared and exposed

I kneel before you

My desires drenched

With the sweat of

Satisfying you

Bared and exposed

I lay spread before you

My needs carried on

The summer breeze

To your nose


Bared and exposed

I wrap myself around you

My loneliness straddling

The defiant dagger

You bury within me


Bared and exposed

I fall again to my knees

Watching you turn your back

Sated, you easily ignore

My pitiful pleas

Bared and exposed

I stand at the window

The sunlight reflecting

The guilt and scorn of

My silent tears



*Pinterest image, source unknown


Tears of Sin

Salacious whispers lick my skin

Skewing my thoughts as thighs part

My hands try to push them away but

Pull and pinch nipples to my dismay

I fight the urge to submit to fantasies fed

By our desires to dance in the forbidden dark

Promises engraved in heated flesh

And spoken with entwined tongues

Push my quivering boundaries to the limit

The wetness that now coats my fingers

With salty sweetness betrays my sadness

As it is not the creamy climax I pursued

But tears for the part of you I cannot have

Who Am I?

At times I feel like I am defined by a collection of memories — some good, some bad, some distorted by my desire of what I want them to be.  I have come to the realization that I am carried into each new day with the force of being a busy mom, but I very much dwell in my past.  I let experience, suffering, fear, guilt and regret guide my decisions or indecision.  I have succumb to the control of memories instead of the guiding arms of a dominant lover.

I am still processing how to make my life move forward in a better direction, in a positive manner.  I do know that I have to learn to let go of the suffocating darkness of the days gone by.  So I will attempt to do so, one sad memory at a time.


Memory of a 5-year old:

The yelling, screaming and excessive cursing woke me from my little girl slumber.  I wasn’t frightened, at first.  I remember thinking that it was rude for grown-ups to be so loud when they wanted a small child to sleep so much.  My mom’s bed was so high I had to crawl to the edge on my stomach and let my legs dangle and slide down until my feet touched the wooden floor.  I wasn’t careful to avoid the creaking boards as my mom and Shelton wouldn’t hear me with their fighting anyway.

I strode to the living room with all intention of giving them both some of my attitude but the scene before me shocked me into silence and stillness.  Shelton had my mom pinned to the wall with one muscular arm wedged between her neck and chest.  The other hand was repeatedly smacking her face.  I saw flashes of red.  I had to squeeze my eyes shut and reopen them to realize that the red was my mom’s blood.  That’s when my own screams were added to the chaos.  Shelton’s hand stopped in mid-air as he heard the unmistakable anguish of a child — a cacophony of fear, anger, confusion and determination.

His eyes glittered at me, not seeing me but yet seeing into me at the same time.  As our eyes connected, pure hatred was exchanged with the man I had called “Daddy” for one year now.  He laughed.  He laughed because he knew he was in control and there was nothing I could do to save my mom or myself.  I took advantage of his distraction and raced to the phone hanging in the kitchen.  I picked up the receiver and swirled the dial to “O”.  A sluggish voice echoed in my ear before I hit the floor with a painful thud.  Shelton stood over me and laughed again as he ripped the phone from the wall and tossed it to my feet.

My memory ends with a slammed door and racing engine and sobs that connect me to my mom stronger than our blood bond ever has.


Their fingerprints cover her heart

Delicate lace gifted of past lovers

Some are faded with flaws forgotten

Some are purple, bruised to touch

Some glitter gold in hue, forever bronzed

Together they frame her expectations, unreasonably so

Together they flicker in the shadows cast by her hopes

Together they create an armor, ethereally intangible

His fingers wait patiently for their turn

Her eyes beg for him to handle her roughly, setting her on fire

To burn off the web of residue that keeps her afraid

Her eyes beg for him to soothe her trembling limbs

To quiet the quiver of her desires, whispered and screamed

Her eyes beg for slip of silk, rub of rope and lash of leather

His fingers wait until she finds the courage to bare her soul

Unhindered by the ghostly caresses of her past

His fingers wait patiently, not to leave his fingerprints on her heart

But to hold her entire being forever in his loving hands

Music that Haunts Me

Desiree G:

Sometimes, going back and rereading our past selves can give us an awareness that is desperately needed, if not necessarily wanted. Sorry for posting something “old”, but it touched me this morning.

Originally posted on Sea of Desire:

This post is quite a departure from my entries so far, but the music and words have been haunting me for days now.  And the more I delve into the world of BDSM, the more the lyrics resonate within me.  I have linked to the YouTube video of this song here, but I will warn you that the actual video sucks (in my honest opinion).  So much more can be done with this song, but that’s not the point.  I just want you to close your eyes and listen.  Feel it wash over you, pour through you.

As much as I love the instrumental component of this piece, the lyrics transport me to a different place.  They make me search inward and connect to that deep, dark, daunting place that I try to cover with many layers of societal norms.  But tonight, I’m breaking down that façade and opening myself to each…

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Needing, Wanting and Waiting….For You

Desiree G:

When others can explain how you feel better than you can … re-blog. :)

Originally posted on The Migraine Chronicles:


I need your smile
when mine is gone
when I am weak
I need you to be strong

I need you to push me
when I want to quit
you tell me keep moving
suck it up and zip-it

I need you to remind me
I’m more than what people see
I don’t believe anyone else
only you know how to explain it to me

I rely on your conversation
more everyday
I find myself hanging
on every word you say

I never liked waiting
on man, women, or child
but somehow you make
the wait worthwhile

So I find myself doing
exactly what I said I wouldn’t do
needing, wanting
and waiting for you

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