sex

Under The Dream Tree. {poetry}

“Sometimes, I believe the highest emotion isn’t love. It is longing.”

The words from a previous dream, something I no longer remember

echo through my head, and out into this space

as we hold each other, in this place of dreaming.

I remember you now,

this embrace feels familiar.

It feels natural, like… home.

I have missed you,

oh, how I missed you.

You hold me as tight as you can,

and I can feel you trembling.

It seems almost as if you are afraid to let me go.

Can you hear,

can you feel my heart beat rapidly?

You loosen your embrace and look at me,

The sun shines in your eyes,

Revealing in them that deep

hidden honey-colored beauty

I stare at you,

place my hand on your cheek.

You blush and smile,

nervously, shyly,

for but a moment.

And your shyness melts away

to become a look of longing.

Your breath quickens,

quivering with passion and excitement.

Slowly, our lips touch.

Gently at first.

Each kiss becomes deeper than the last.

I breathe you in,

as my hands begin to caress you

Begin to feel every goosebump on your skin

You take my hand,

and slowly guide it down between your legs

You are moist already,

as I slip my fingers inside you.

“Yes,” the whisper escapes your lips.

You let out a sigh of contentment,

As you kiss me deeply.

I move my fingers faster,

and you hold on to me.

I can feel the bliss which courses through you.

“Yes,” you whisper again, as I let go of you

You wrap a leg around my waist.

I take you, and lift you with such ease.

Do you remember my strong arms

and how light you are to me?

When I held you,

so long ago, under the Dream Tree?

You surrender, welcoming my embrace.

You open yourself to me.

I, iron-hard, enter you,

the beginning of bliss pouring into us.

We lay on the cool grass,

you on top of me.

You sigh passionately at my touch,

and breathe me in.

You bite my lips,

and sigh with pleasure

As we move,

our bodies in perfect sync,

perfect rhythm with each other.

The moans you make are music to me.

I remember now,

I have always told you,

the sweetest poetry are the kisses my lips leave on your skin,

Are the moans of passion and breath which escapes you so quickly.

Your every goosebump a sculpture.

My favorite work of art,

is you in my embrace,

Is us, together,

in this ecstatic form,

under the Dream Tree.

In this place of dreaming,

there is no one but you and I.

I wake up in the darkness.

It is early morning, and I am alone.

My face is hot, and I can feel your body heat.

I can feel your breath, your lips, your touch,

As if you were really here.

As if I were still dreaming.

Sometimes, I believe the highest emotion isn’t love.

It is longing.

***

Tony JayTony Jay is a seeker of wonder, who has a deep admiration and love for the written word. Like da Vinci, he wants to work miracles. An aspiring yogi, writer and student, he is continuously learning to face his life, his pain and pleasure, leaving no path untaken.

***

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