affection

Senses.

Wolfette, , , , , , , , , , , , Leave a comment

Happy Sunday pups. Here’s a poem I just finished. For, Άλφα..thank you for having patience with me.

Sensory deprivation is a horrid form of torture, and I brought it upon myself. But you, you’re slowly giving me my wolf like senses back, baby. In the quiet moments before each sunset, I can hear the soft, steady beat of your heart. I’d like to think I could hear your voice in my dreams last night, slowly drifting through my brain.

I told you once of the damage my body suffered while in my adolescent lifetime, and you ran your hand along the lines I wear upon my back; the ones that silence clawed into my flesh. And I swear, in that moment I felt every bend in my spine, every knot loosened, instantly.

I had such dulled senses when it comes to touch… I would have never thought you could draw such a reaction out of my skin, yet there you were. So gentle, and patient, that even I had mistaken your breath for an autumn breeze.

There’s a beach somewhere, I’d love to visit.

Wolfette, , , , , , 1 Comment

I cried,
and he held me.
I told you I felt safe,
wrapped inside your voice box,
and you pushed me away.

We’re too alike,
you and I.
We are made of the same thunder and lightening storms.

The sea swells inside your rib cage,
they want to drown me.
And for once in my life,
I would welcome the chance.
An opportunity to swim in unexplored waters, just the sort of danger I could get hooked on.

But his warmth,
I was not expecting.
His palpable charm,
I wanted to feel it in my lungs.
Drink him in, slowly, like whiskey.
But smooth, like fine silk.

You said, too much.
He said, not enough.
He wants more. You want none.

To be held the way I imagine you would hold me, is everything the girl I used to be, dreamed for.

But to be spoken to the way we speaks to me, is everything the woman I am now, asked for.

I’m unsure if I have something to hold onto; but maybe I’m willing to wait on the beach, safe from your monstrous waves, to see if he comes to me.