"Silk "
Silk. Luxurious silk. This is the texture I find as I glide my hand ever so slowly through her hair. These locks fall effortlessly through my extended fingers, and her eyes close at my caress. Her head is cradled in my arms, and I am lost in these exquisite waves of ebony; lost in waves of silk.
I marvel at this texture. I am fascinated with each touch. I am keenly aware...of her presence, of her skin, of her response.
I watch as she softens, falling gracefully into the folds of my embrace.
Her presence is overwhelming. She remains victorious, pressing onward each and every day. She is already more than most ever hope to become, and is driven to reach far beyond her horizons. This dedication hardens in her shoulders and neck. Calcifies in her temple and brow.
Close your eyes. Permit me to remove your burden, guide you from your turmoil and toil. Gently drift into one brief moment of silence, a sublime instant of peace.
I witness her stress and fears, and seek the rugged terrain of her tension and the sharp edges of her anxiety. In my hands, I soften these edges, grinding them down with my fingers, till only their dust remains.
I want her fears, her demons to fall away, lost for the moment in my hands, as my fingers remain lost in her hair.
And I am lost in her essence -- though blissfully engaged. Emotionally awake.
I trace the curve of her face with my fingertip, and witness but the slightest flutter of her eyelid.
I can feel your heartbeat. I am part of your breath. I am intoxicated by your perfume...or perhaps...poisoned by it.
As she breathes I observe the slightest part of her lips. And again I am tempted to embrace them with my own, every moment more deeply consumed by the energy that surrounds her.
Yet, is she aware?
Can you see the spark in my eyes when you smile?
Can your hear my delight when you call?
Can you feel the affection in my touch?
Can you know the passion that pounds through me, surging violently through my veins?
I am alert to her every move, every whisper, and graciously conscious of each curve, each texture, each sensation, and each and every strand of those marvelous curls.
She is an image of loveliness; a strong, and powerful woman, and a creature of exceptional beauty. I am forever grateful to merely share her existence, and I embrace her companionship.
But do you understand? Can you sense this constriction, tightening around my torso and choking of my breath? This energy is but yours to release.
Do I have the courage to expose my breast? Can I ever satisfy your own longings and expectations?
Could you even accept this gift, or am I again drowning in a sea of unrequited and ever deepening desire?
For now, I'll continue to celebrate in her spirit, grateful of her friendship, and will treasure her splendor resting gently in my arms.
And for now I remain lost in quiet discontent, as my fingertips remain lost in her endless waves of silken...ebony...hair.
