Poppet

I've known you forever, and you are only just remembering me.

She looks at me with wide eyes, delight and joy evident, sitting forward, __hey are dreaming? You watch dreams? Movie is dream?

He gives me one of those twinkling stares. His eyes coalesce and fragment color, glinting specks of midnight purple and an electric blue, when the light catches them just right. Straight on they look like indelible pitch, well deep with secrets and primordial darkness.

The closer she hip sways to me, the taller and tenser I stand, until I'm so rigid my muscles ache.

It's a heady aphrodisiac being exposed to his unique voice when he adopts that tone. His voice reverbs on a bunch of notes simultaneously. It's the first thing you notice about Ryan, his voice sounds like an orchestra playing a symphony composed by angels. It's most distracting until you grow immune to it, and now I'm back to completely infected with the Ryan voice virus.

Now more than ever I wish I had a cup of oblivion. But there is no mercy for the people who have left the darkness for the light. The darkness lingers until you stand naked in the light and let it fill you up, in every corner of your soul.

Eyes darker than a midnight lake penetrate my thoughts with their intensity, and a big hand warmly covers mine

He puts his arm around me, the lights dancing on his dark skin constantly skipping across to mine, planting a myriad of emotions into each pore as if preparing my heart for tilling.

You can only push me so far little slakax, and then I will do what has to be done, with or without your permission.

He should always wear jeans because they make him look hotter than a nebula. Black suits him too. It hugs to his muscular vales and swells, turning temptation into sexy man therapy.

Desire filters toxins through my system at the sight and I lower again, shoving her against the padded wall to snake my tongue over the elixir of pain.

The flock mirror the madness of their liege.

In a perfect patch of paradise he stays immobile for an eternity while the predawn breath strokes his skin and kisses each vertebrae down his spine.

How awful is it to be sane enough to be fully aware of the day you realize you are completely losing your grasp on reality. I'm crazy. Not just a little bit, but rubber room ready out of my mind fucked up.

Biting a plump bottom lip, I stare into endless irises open and poised over my own. Sliding my hand up her thigh, under her gown, I pull her closer with the hand cupping her hipbone, releasing the growl of a king caught in delight.

He turns back to me, a strong hand swooping down and sculpting hair off my face, familiar looking arms curling back around me and cradling me into a chest harder and hotter than a mountain left baking in the Australian outback.

Every man needs a shadow to reveal his light, to always be that close, ever present, bonded forever in astral allegiance.

He's as tall as the door, and I'm standing here without remembering the walk across the shadowed parking lot. When he turns to face me the world grinds into slow motion. Even my heartbeat draws out interminably.