There were things I should have said,
but didn’t.
There were things I said and shouldn’t have,
but did anyways.
There were things I should have done,
but didn’t.
There were things I shouldn’t have done,
but did anyways.
And for all those things
I am sorry
It’s not in the accomplishment,
It’s the overcoming…
A heart is like a fruit…
Take away it’s sweet n tender juices and
The only thing you’re left with,
Is a bitter pulp.
Taste of morning dew on my lips, tongue and mouth; drinking the unconscious wetness.
Of fruit, melons and honey tastes, sweet n succulent morning treat.
I part your thick thighs with my face.
Breakfast-devouring your cunt with my tongue & mouth.
I woke, had a dream, you were there and now in mind-again. Wide awake I’m thinking of you clear as day. I’m writing this to get you off my mind. Absent you are, from me, but I know you’re back. In the shadows. I hate thinking of you, when you’re gone. Sometimes I just hate thinking of you; because you don’t think of me. More than once, for briefs moments…I thought…but it wasn’t true. Fleeting. Ephemeral. Passing like yesterday’s sun.
Like a child chasing a butterfly,
another almost grasping the dandelion.
So if you try too hard, you’ll have neither.
But if you’re gentle,
if you’re kind
and if you’re lucky…
Then the dandelion will land, and the butterfly will fly away no more.
The same I believe is true for love.
Last night my angel came to me.
She touched my face & kissed my lips.
She warmed me, and cooled me too.
When I awoke
it was the wind,
blowing through the cracked open window.
It’s time I begun posting anything on here. I haven’t, kept everything hidden. I will mostly be writing either snips of day to day thoughts, or will be posting stuff from my past.
To respect the muse….
I imagined your lips wrapped around me, and my cock’s in your mouth.
Your breasts were hanging and sitting against my thighs and your hair fell like silky dark rain.
Our bodies touching,
caressing each other flesh,
like strokes of a paint brush
to a living canvass of flesh and desire.
I held her in my sleep
Through the night
Through the dream
Into awakening
I had to realize she is just a dream
Leaving in the morning
Gone all day
Only a memory that lingers
She returns when all is still and silent
Sometimes in that vacuum of madness
When my mind works itself
Thats when she returns
When I alone
M.R.Borda 