Let me taste. 

The lingering essence of their taste long after they are gone. I long for the etched memories of hope and belief in the darkness if reality. The rawness of truth whispered from the tongue of a lover between silken sheets as rich flames flicker against naked skin. Let me taste these souls, their honest lust and deep need to love, let me collect them in jars covered in a lifetimes dust and placed highupon a shelf always their within reach for the twilight hours. 
Karen Hayward ©2016

The Taste of my…

And through the tender 

kisses of your lips; 

the need in your eyes,

the trailing of your tongue, 

through the stroking

of your fingers,

through the passion in 

their touch and

the caressing of your 

palm. 

The past is cleansed 

from my soul, 

your need becomes 

the hinted scent 

of my skin, 

the taste on my 

tongue, the essence

in my…

and the past is cleansed 

from my soul. 
Karen Hayward ©2016

I imagine you taste like…

img_20160330_193418.jpg

I imagine you would taste of; love, sweet like cherry ade with fizzy bubbles popping on my tongue, and the ocean on a fresh crisp evening the salt lingering in the air. I imagine you would taste of the delicate blades of lush grass beneath my bare feet or concrete warm and soothing as rain spits down forming pools for me to dance in. Or maybe a thousand words shared between new lovers, shy and blushing as their lips meet in the precious first kiss. I imagine you would taste of falling tears and hearts tearing open, of broken promises and thunder storms, atoms charging the skies. Or maybe of hidden glances and butterflies, or the excitement of exploring the unknown. Or sweet tea, morning coffee, broken, dunken biscuits and empty packets. I imagine you would taste like the first flakes of snow falling from the red skies and perfect naps and the last chapter of a book that I read first so I can see how the story is created I imagine, you taste like creation.

Karen Hayward. ©2016

Please tick as appropriate.

Do not define me
under some useless title
used by society to
dictate the supposed behavioural habits of an individual soul.
I am me,
I do  not fit beneath a title,
I am a title
All of my own,
I defy your rules
I defy your terms,
I create.
I create new ways,
New rules, new terms,
I create a new definition
By which to let my soul live.
So stop trying to define,
The indefinable,
I am not a county or country or town,
I am in love with words with pictures, I am not a genre, or a taste or a type,
I don’t follow the hype,
I follow my heart,
It’s a great place to start,
I am free,
Please,
stop defining me.