Tag Archives: flower

My dawn won’t break until….

13 Dec

I just love this song and maybe you’ll enjoy it as well.


A good man without a good woman is like a vase with no flowers. My dawn won’t break until my vase is full.

I want to feel her brown skin on my brown skin and watch our brown skin in candle light. And my dawn won’t break until skin is one and my suit becomes her suit and we mix down to molecules.

The hunter in me is a patience one, my bait is confidence, I am a sportsman and well seasoned. But my dawn won’t break until my prize is place. On my arm and I show the world and I beam.

I will walk slowly and¬†steadily, my eyes fixed, the wind behind me, determination has encased me. My dawn won’t break until the empress is on her throne. I become her subject.

The rain thunders in and rinses away the sticky grime of failed relationships and the sour after taste of rejection. But my dawn won’t break until that same storm chases away the silence that is my heart. It makes me whole with firm grip to hold on to my new future.

With her now here I can see the faint light of dawn breaking. The beat of nature slows and let’s us in, I can feel life running through me. My pessimistic self sees promise. I grab her hand and we watch the sunset.

My Flower With a Missing Petal

28 Sep


She was a revalation.

She came to me as such.

With gentle gaze my eyes could not reckon, not even with mountainous effort.

She covered my sight like a rolling mist, she was absolute, her sweetness shook me.

I wanted this woman and I would have this woman, like long drinks of cold water when only water would do.

My thoughts wrapped around her and we became fused and she devoured me.

I loved her like light, life and upliftment, she could not commit, something had been spoiled and she saw that something in me.

Long hours I reasoned, neither day nor night brought forth resolution.

Had guilty pleasure given way to simple pleasure?

I want to need her, I need to want her. It’s what I’m here for or why am I here?

How could I unlock her sacred heart and move in?


The secret would remain so and I would remain only half known.

My flower was still my flower and her stains she will not allow to be washed away.

My eyes cannot see but her glory as she puts her hands up to cover them.

My mouth speaks of my love for her as she silences me with a kiss.

Her hurt I can now feel and I let her be, I let her go.

When will she let her hurt go and let herself live?

this piece came to me as a friend and I were talking about past relationships. We came to the conclusion that most of the women we had known and loved had been abused. Either sexually or what have you. They often don’t feel like they should be loved or could be loved. I want all of them to know that you can be loved and will be loved if you let that happen. ¬†

Good Morning

1 Jun

this may enhance your reading pleasure:


Morning greeted me next to her.

As sunlight strikes my love I am consumed by the emotions that accompany the realization that she is indeed mine.

I have succumbed to this goddess that lay’s next to me and my will is not my own. For if she wanted the world at her front door I am powerless to disagree.

I allow my hands to follow the contours of this perfect being’s curves, as the morning has not yet greeted her.

The warmth of her body wraps me in a cocoon of silky womanhood, if not careful my mind will be lost in this oasis that is she.

I watch as she is captured in angelic sleep, oblivious to my examination of her beautiful self, the temptation to touch her soft lips is too much, and I touch her.

She inhales life and exhales love, I try to collect as much as I can before claimed by spirits in need of a fix.

If she knew how much I loved her at this very moment, sleep would lose it’s grip, and I would be rewarded with her smile.

Many mornings have come and gone with me watching her and wanting her and feeling her and loving her. She is my heart-shaped box full of no more loneliness.

The outline of her body is faint under sheet, but have left a deep impression on my masculine essence.

I fill the air with my love for her, so when her sleep is concluded she is draped in an honest and emotional shelter.

I focus on this flower of mine as her eyes begin to open, and she is drenched by all the love I have for her.

She smiles and whispers to me…………………….good morning.