The Taste Of Your Skin.. The Salt And șweat.. The Lingering Perfume..... The Warmth Of You On My Lips...

So sexy to bind your hands, having you submit, slowly having my way.

Giving and Receiving, oil on canvas, 8x8 inches, 2019

How sexy you are when you wear your stockings....

The deep painful introspective looks in the mirror at myself, have the same weight as someone's judgmental take on me, as they pass by with their first impressions as they judge either how I look, or how they chose to see me.

Either way it's as soothing to my soul as standing in one spot, barefoot on hot blacktop as the sun beats down upon it.

Maybe I never get to put away the knife, or better yet forget where I laid it. I'd settle for wiping it off on my sleeve and putting it in its sheath.

The untrusting darkness in me, combined with the auras that decide to pass by instead create the need to clench it so hard in my hand my knuckles turn white.

Fractured thoughts converge, tinting my field of vision around me.

It's not fear, but weariness.

I rather would choose the darkness or at least the shadows than to be laid bare in the unforgiving sun.

To bathe in the moonlight is to heal, to weather my skin to handle the torment of my waiting demons.

I see the silence in their touch, I hear the cold embrace against my skin.

At least their companionship is steady, the cuts, bruises, the crimson trail of thoughts they plant is expected.

I don't embrace them, but I've learned to depend on them for at least a normalicy in my life.

Without my anxiety, my demons that remind me in my sleep not to ware dream of a fairy tale life, I'd be tempted to trust those around me.

Instead I live looking for patterns... What do they want?what do they seek from me? What can I do for them?

Once they take a look at my face, or my intense soul the majority show themselves as weak, selective, callus in how they change, turn, ignore, block, or disappear.

Trust....

What the fuck is that anyway?

Unconditional acceptance... Yeah ok.. Now that's a beautiful fantasy.

I would rather be labeled too intense, or untrusting, I would rather always hold my knife and count on one hand those that may actually give a fuck about me, then to live like the lemmings that think popularity in numbers is love, or that kind words aren't laced with dark intentions.

Tell a friend you are thinking about them.

That kind of energy goes a long ways.

Mine....

You are mine, no matter if the delicate, warm, golden rays of the sun kiss your skin or the cool, crisp moon accents your body.

You are mine, whether I'm deep inside you, stretching and claiming you as you carve crimson, wet scars in my back, or so far away all I have is your memory in my I mind, feeding the physical ache in my erection as I yearn to devour you once more. P

You are mine when stand on top of the world, filled with joy, beaming with laughter and still mine when you feel broken, beaten, so mentally dark, you feel you have no one by your side.

You are mine because I unconditionally accept all of you. Even the crazy you try to hide.

You are mine because I value and love, every unique surface of your diamond.

For as long as you are mine.... I vow to love you, protect you, strive to make you laugh, hold you when you cry. I will nourish your body and your mind, I care for you with a level of importance.

I will always listen to my good girl, every thought, Idea, way to look at a situation.

I will not dismiss your fears or placate you.

I will strive to leave you feeling loved, desired, safe, needed, wanted and hopefully whole.

You are mine to lose and mine to show I will fight enough to keep it that way.

As I sift through the fading remnants of my dreams.... One thing I know... I desire you.

The sound of your voice soothes me, while I can be content throughout my day, nothing quite speaks to my soul like you.