I want you to pull me into you
Urgently, your lips crashing against
Mine, fevered and desirous
They part to let you in –
Hot and wet, alive and furious
My senses mingle with the
Scent of you, primal and predatory
I want to be your prey.
Monthly Archives: July 2017
I want you to pull me into you
Like any afternoon we would meet, I was in his room. He was draped in his chair across from me, a relaxed look on his face as I twirled a pen between my fingers.
“So… what was your very first impression of me?”
“Well… I thought you were so proper and good.”
He smiled, a little smug. I smiled back, then continued.
“But when I got to know you better, it all changed…”
My turn to grin as he looked slightly annoyed.
“…I found that you had your own wacky perspective of looking at things, were witty and best of all, you could catch my puns. I love that. I like when someone can go deep with me.”
Looking visibly pleased, he grinned back as me. Then, a thought crossed his mind.
“Remember when you got angry and almost walked out on me? I was so worried you would.”
“Ah yeah…” I furrowed my brows as I remembered. “…but you know I’d never do that.”
“I’m glad you didn’t.”
I took a breath.
“Out of all of them, you are the best.”
He looked at me, the slightest hint of sadness in his eyes.
“I guess this is the last time we’re gonna be here like this.”
“Yeah well… you gotta go.”
I felt a twinge in my heart.
“But hey, this is never really goodbye. I can always go meet you there, get a coffee or something. And there’s always Skype.”
He brightened up a little.
“Yeah, I guess that’s another way to look at it.”
I gave him a wink.
“So I’ll see you again.”
“Yeah, we’ll do just that.”
I had to smile. “Soon.”
A friendly poetry challenge
Appeared with a similar theme
So here’s the previous post
Re-formed in poetry. 🙂
He was seated at the table
Glass of wine in his hand
Sultry was the afternoon
Some summer breezes fan
The town bustle and chatter
Filled the air in his wait
Till he looked up as he heard
Her voice – “Sorry I’m late!”
He set his glass down, as she
Arrived at his table
A smile on his lips
“I’m glad you were able.”
“Well I kept my promise
To meet you today.”
He took a sip from his glass
His eyes not leaving her face
She reached for her own
Lips curled in a wicked smile
“Amici e vino sono meglio vecchi.”
Made him guffaw a while
“Are you saying that I’m old?”
He winked and took a sip
“I’m saying we get better with age
Like fine wine and friendship.”
There he was at the table, seated in a cane chair and casual grey pants, shirt casually unbuttoned and a glass of wine in his hand. Sultry was the afternoon except for an occasional summer breeze – a welcoming reprieve. As the town bustle and chatter filled the air, he turned his wrist and glanced down from behind his shades.
“Sorry I’m late!”
He looked up to see her walking briskly towards him, a smile on her face. He set his glass down, and as she arrived at his table, got up and removed his shades, a smile on his lips.
“Yes, you are.”
She grinned as they both settled into their seats and the waiter came with a menu.
“I’ll have what he’s having, thanks.”
He looked at her half-amusedly as she gave a little sigh and eased into her chair, putting her hair to one side as she did. Then, she turned to him with a twinkle in her eye.
“Well I kept my promise. Happy birthday!”
“Haha, yes you did.”
He took a sip from his glass, his eyes not leaving her face. She reached for her glass with a wicked smile.
“Amici e vino sono meglio vecchi.”
“Ha! Are you saying I’m old?”
“I’m saying we get better with age.”
“Indeed. Speaking of which…”
He caught the scent of her perfume as he leaned towards her. She watched him as he did, until he was just a breath away.
“…I’m better at writing now.”
In that moment, a breath of wine, his fingers on her chin; a flick of her eyes, then the taste of his lips.
Il bacio è la più alta poesia dell’amore.
The greatest poem indeed.
Amidst the bustle of activity, something seemed to change, so quickly yet subtly. In place, there was an air of careful caution.
Dusk had fallen.
As you led the way trailing some others ahead, we laid our steps carefully enough to not wake the bodies sleeping on the ground. My eyes fell upon your back – you were broader and stronger than I remembered you to be. Falling around your shoulders, locks of hair glistened where it caught the light.
Deviating from them disappearing straight ahead, you turned right and I followed. We were met by a steep flight of wooden stairs leading down to an open doorway. A sharp draft gusted as we went down – it was a cold morning. Nearing the bottom of the staircase, I caught sight of a German shepherd, standing guard at the exit. Instinctively, I stretched out my hand and petted it, then you did too and it became friendly and did not bark. We got past it and were on our way.
“You’re not worried at all, are you?”
All I remembered was I was not afraid because it was a place I knew. You took my hand – it was an unsafe situation – then we went up a narrow flight of stairs, much like those one could see flanking a traditional Chinese performing stage.
Seeking shelter, we found ourselves at the entrance to a motel.
A man sat nonchalantly at the doorway which opened up to a troupe of Vietnamese ladies; they were rehearsing for their performance, dancing with strips of silk cloth. It was dinghy but clean.
You walked in to enquire of a lady perched at the counter if there were rooms; she replied in the negative. Turning around, you made your way pass the dancing ladies towards me. Arriving back by my side, you faced me looking weary, then gave me a gentle smile of apology. As we were about to leave, one of the ladies asked us where we were going, and where you were from.
As though in reply, you drew me into your arms and held me quietly. As I lay with my right cheek against your chest, an overwhelming comforting sense of safety flowed from my centre throughout my whole being, and I knew there was nowhere else I wanted to be.
One of the ladies commented that you were a foreigner and another told her she had to remember your face if you were going to be working with them. Turning to us, she asked what you were teaching, in a language I understood but which you did not. I turned to you and translated what she said, but all you did was to gaze at me without a word, still that gentle smile on your face.
And in that long wait for your reply, time seemed to have stood still, before it all faded…
Sitting unassuming and
Innocent, lusciously warmed and
Oozing intensity, complemented by
Iced creamy richness –
Solvil et Titus once ran a series of commercials featuring renowned Hong Kong stars, moving storylines and that unforgettable tagline, which I suspect, greatly influenced the way I love. Here’s my translated take on it and my favourite commercial from the series.
Not for love timeless
But having once loved.
His scent in the air reminsces
His scent on my skin.
The bus lurched to a halt and the flaps retracted.
Instinctively, she glanced up, only to be met by a stranger’s eyes. For a moment, they held each other; his mouth curved up into a slight smile and she reciprocated.
In that moment, a meeting, an acquaintance, a brief connection if you must, yet a moment that prompted neither to move. He broke away and she did too.
As the doors clamped back into position, he returned gaze in farewell and she allowed it to be so, a faint smile on her lips as the vehicle pulled her away.