When passion stirs 

It starts at my very core, there at my centre, deep within my sacral.
Not a gentle, subtle whispered kiss
of bliss, oh no, It’s an inferno, a blazing
storm, it takes hold, flames
through me, a moments combustion,
lubricated response to dampen the
fires of desire. A matrix of sensuality,
ancient coding mapped on the aged
parchment of my soul, the hidden
symbolism of spirit that you finger
your way through with the knowledge
of a blind man searching his memories
for lost vibrations of once known directions. A flamed insistence spreads
through my responsive cells,
blood reaching my surface needing
to caress its master as searing heat
flushes and blushes, intensity rushes.
My limbs curl, search, draw in,
crouching, anticipating the onslaught
Implosive lust, explosive need…
It all starts at my very centre,
an inferno blazing through
me, an ancient need responding
to its one true master.

Karen Hayward ©2017

Embrace the last of your sleep that lingers

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As your alarm rings,
I would reach out
my hand to your skin,
grasp at your fingers,
embrace the last of
your sleep that lingers.
I would swallow down
my souls tug and use a
smile to hide my frown.
My lips would eagerly
devour the warmth of your
essence, kissing, greedily
the canvas of your form.
I’d curse the shortness of night
and the coming of morn.
I’d search the depth of your eyes
for a moment’s need sustained,
love spilling as the endless skies
passion radiating, desire burning
alarm ringing, bodies entwining,
souls yearning, I’d kiss you,
good morning.

Karen Hayward (c) 2017
Image and words