Viewing Member - bighoss2

Here in these arms is where you belong. Longing arms have never felt so strong, as when wrapped around, the one who holds, my heart here inside loves tender folds. Feel the warmth wash over, steal you away, please forever, here in these arms stay.

dark eyes gazing softly at a warm inviting vision...kiss me.

Come sit with me. Settle back into my arms. Let me hold you, just this once, my speechless awe. If there is a moment, in this one is where I fall. God I wish I could tell you, how wonderful this feels. Forever is found and time stands still. I have nothing more than just the ache in this touch. I have no images, no flowery phrases, no words at all. Just the want to have you here, in this moment I fall.

Satiny, sleek, silken fabric
over sumptuous, sensual, shoulders
slowly, slipping, sliding
calmly, casually, cascading
caressing charming, comely, curves
beauty revealed inch by inch
until longing loins leap


Feeling overly alitterate today. Just had this vision of lovely woman adorned in soft fabric being slowly revealed bouncing around in my head.

Just a day, would have been better spent under covers. Wile away, in dark corners remain undiscovered. Hide from light, believing something good will come of this. Peace from sight, no future, no past just pure perfect bliss. Dream no more, fear robs the soul and brings the truth too bare. Leave it torn, mending takes more and I have none there. Pull my string, watch it all unravel and see it fail. Out loud sing, pierce the dark and shout one mans haunted wail. No tears now, be a man, sally forth and carry on. Sleep somehow, to awakened eyes the demon is gone.

When I can touch you, I can see. I can envision a world, warm, beautiful, exactly as it should be. Let my fingers trace over your flesh, tasting each precious curve, as my eyes softly close. To gaze upon my heart's desire, I need not those.
I need but these fingers and you to trace over and again. He who could never see you, knows not how to be a man. Settle back into my arms, drift off in perfect repose, here with me, in this moment, hearts unbreak, troubled minds settle like a windless sea.
If I touch you, can you see? In this moment, in these hands, you belong with me.

Some people remember books, music, et al. Photographic memories really piss me off. I cannot tell you 100 consecutive words I have read in any book. I can however, with little prompting, remember ever lecture. I remember conversations, I likely will forget times, dates, and places, but I will remember who was speaking, what was said, what they were wearing, and likely what was in the immediate proximity. It's like my mind doesn't want to let go of words. Sad sometimes, because I can remember every goodbye, every sorrow filled excuse, and every I love you that came before. It's not always bad. People occasionally remark how I never seem unfamiliar with my friends, even if we haven't spoken in years. It's because, for me, we just finished talking. The memory, even years old, is fresh in my mind. My first memory is one of words. I am very small. I don't know how I ended up there. I likely fell. I did that a lot. I'm scared, but I don't know why. My father is sitting in a wooden chair with cushions. He's wearing blue jeans, and an oily white t-shirt. He's clean shaven. He looks very young. I must have been tiny. His voice has a certain disdain. "Get up boy, you aint hurt" is my earliest memory. He wanted men. Men get up. Even at that young age, he expected me to get up. It sounds bad in that context, but as I said, the memories are always fresh in my mind. So, it's always there. A bone breaks. "Get up boy you aint hurt." Every bump, every bruise, every blown out knee, every future scar replaced with "Get up boy you aint hurt." A broken heart wavering by the grave of an old man whose heart burst, "Get up boy you aint hurt." So his first words, carried me through his end. Words are my forget me nots. Every broken promise, every broken heart, every goodbye, they are all there, but so too is every promise to be pro wrestlers, every bet that we could swim across the river with full fishing gear in tow, every magnificent accomplishment from all night gaming sessions, every soft moonlit conversation about forever, every I love you. In truth, I am a dreamer, and like most dreamers, I dream of sunny days, while living in a storm. My forget me nots bring me rays of light, until the storm has passed.

If I close my eyes, I can feel your breath on my skin.
If I still my own, I can hear your heart beat within.
If I touch your lips, I can see angels sing above.
If I can find you, I can hold that one perfect love.

I met you in a dream, visions washing over, like lapping waves of a warm sea. I touched forever, in those moments, until the morning bid my dream adieu.
I miss the sun that shined, when my heart entered the room, like that piece of me had returned; I am whole again; I can take on the world renewed.
I miss the feeling of your soft beautiful face, filling the void in my hand, brushing aside your hair, bringing heaven into view.
I miss the look in your eyes, like an angel's voice calling me home, loosing myself in that one soft perfect moment, feeling love flow through.
I miss how perfectly your head fits cradled to my chest, the warm serenity that comes; you are in my arms, soft, perfect, true.
I met you in a dream, visions washing over, like lapping waves of a warm sea. I touched forever. in the morning after, I miss you.

Touch one heart deeply, and feel your own. The heart must give and receive. Blood flows into and out of this ever moving organ. Love must flow the same way. You cannot live just being loved, nor can you live just loving.