… His words taste like the outer corners of lust, coveted by dark shadows. A curse of black mist rising in me. If I am the succubus then he is my master, puppeteering my desire, fingering my needs to his command. His touch is the black leather choker at my slender neck. His voice the liberating echo of passion that lubricates my strings….and in his eyes is the promise of a million kisses, each one new, deep, purposeful. Each kiss overflowing with lust, each kiss a binding promise of trust, each kiss an exchange of power… And if I am his succubus, a vessel of need then he is my master and from him alone I feed, for there in his kisses, his touch and his eyes, is an abundance of love filling my skies.

Karen Hayward ©2018

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Clarity beyond the storm… 

There is peace in the silenece
a serenity, a solace of mind
Clarity trickles through
and for a moment I see
blue clouds beyond the storm.

KH©2018

Image and words 

Tinker tailor soldier… 

Sometimes you can bite a tongue too deep,
Awaken a dormant sleeping beast,
A scorpio was never born to be meek
Her protective stance is her sleep…

But scales must be aligned, to be fair
You ever wondered how she got there?
A Lone walker, she needs no one to care
Self destruct, from a single source they share.

Now silence echoes as the future calls
A blip on the radar she will cut the cord
Pull at the lines and break her own fall
At best it will leave her just a little bit sore.

For meekness was never her skin
and respect not given where dues
Is the strength it now brings
as she wanders away,
to forget about you, for the loss
of respect, where respect was due.

Karen Hayward ©2018 image and words 

Black leather and kissing red… 

Black leather and kissing red 

Will you bind me in tomorrow’s kisses
Translucent skin bare against black leather
Squirming, pleading, alost in your wishes
tender lips, grazing, as soft as feathers. 

Come, lose yourself in eyes of innocence,
fingers entwined between flaming red curls
Pushing, pulling, testing my resilience
Skillfully guiding, inner she unfurls. 

encapsulating her essence in hues
Technicolour, tickled fingers trailing
between Celestial beats arousing you
And passions burning fires truly flaming

A rare puzzle piece beyond defining
Would you embrace the effort refining.
Karen Hayward ©2018

Image found on Google. 

Karma doesn’t have my name. 

What I wouldn’t give to erase you from the very core of me, to scrape away all elements that made you, to wipe clean the slate of pain with the same ease you dance across the planes. Reality, is a perception you once said, you carved me one designed to kill the last embers of my hope, a man made design you redrew the outlines to create the perfect fall and I stupidly fell. So much awareness and yet so blind, you took the graphite pencil and rewrote reality into a morbid fantasy on speckles of forgotten words… I told you, I told you as your tongue stumbled, and there within the letters I find it again… But alas, it is too late for me too rectify and prove my innocence, the words form the curve of karma, the consequence was never mine to have… the damage is done.

KH©2018

It begins

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And it begins, central in my forehead the deep pounding that promises storms on the horizon. Skies of peach Melba as a winter sun stretches his fingers through the frozen web of clouds blocking his way, and the throbbing consumes as we are swallowed by the darkening screams, and it beats, pulling, dragging, striking…my eyes beg to close as I am swallowed by the changing air, my eyes beg to close.

 

Karen Hayward ©2018

Image and words