Neck

Normally, with her calm demeanour being complemented, she’d listen to the majestic music instead of being beautifully distracted. She’d hum the chorus, embracing each word and rhythm, but at this very second her thoughts seemed to be struggling. He, of course, was the source of her predicament.

With each word musically expressed, she could feel his lips upon her skin. Moving, gracefully, almost flowing with the background’s musical score. She smiled, placing her wine to the side of her, allowing her focus to simply be whatever it wished to be. It was the weekend, the end of the working days.

She closed her eyes, her ears simply rejoicing at the calm bestowed to her mind’s way of thinking and, of course, those lips. Those heavenly, seductive, tempting lips. He had a way about him, a sort of almost devilish charm, yet that was nothing compared to what he hid behind that smile of his.

The seconds escaped, evaporating as easily as the winter snow outside. The warm fireplace, just across the room to her left, provided the glow and the wine simply permitted her that extra allowance of freedom. He stopped kissing her back and, pressing his frame to hers, he gently moved her head to the side, to rest her against his hand. She expressed her satisfaction with an ever so slight vocal gesture. A small moan, as it were.

He started, gently, ever so carefully, to kiss her neck. Starting lower down, he moved his lips with ease as he pressed kisses to her skin. They felt like small slices of heaven, served upon a tray of warm emotion, as he continued. Moving along that skin of hers, he pressed that little bit more, his lips collecting her reaction to his warmth.

Again and again, he kissed her neck, as his hand let go of her head, to instead wrap around her waist. He drew her closer to him, embracing her, as she turned her head ever so slightly to allow his lips to find hers. Their lips met, embracing the moment, as he moved his lips away from hers, gently nudging her head to the other side. His lips, once again, found a canvas of skin to write his wishes upon. Each kiss, a word. Each motive, explanatory to her imagination.

She could feel her legs grow weaker by the second, as she felt those goosebumps start to appear upon her lower arms. She could so easily turn, to eat that slice of cake, but that wouldn’t do as she ideally wanted the whole thing. If he were cake, he’d have been devoured weeks before this very moment.

He simply knew her, had listened to her, with her actual desires being met, restored and conquered with such vigour that even the gods above must have looked away. He had time, that type of time, to simply kiss her neck with no other objective but her own pleasure. It was an unknown quantity, that resided within him and seemingly no other. Each time he kissed her neck, pressed his lips to her needing skin, she felt her entire body start to relax. Each time he touched her neck, it was almost the seconds of making love completely enraptured, within that singular expression.

Her hand found his, embracing fingers entwining together as she finally reached the point of complete, depraved, desire laden, wanton indulgence. His lips continued to find her secret places of susceptibility, embracing every single source of her hidden buttons, as he pressed his lips together again and again.

She felt her body find her wild desire and, finally, give herself the very thing she wanted. She moved from the chair, turning as she stood, only to return to straddle him. As she placed him within her, she exhaled slightly, once again taking his warm lips against hers. She could feel him, embrace him, as she looked into his eyes. Moving her hair to her right side, she smiled. He knew his orders, and those orders were to continue kissing her sensitive, beautiful, perfect neck.

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Steps

Daniel closed the door, turning, placing one foot in front of the other. He covered the distance, between the gate and the door, in record time. He’d look back, glance, with all intentions being delicate and pure, but what would be, would be just as it is. He’d come a long way, since his earlier days of strife and confusion, but that still didn’t evade the situations that he often found himself.

As he opened the gate, his emotions flicked from one side of his mind to the other, as he remembered the days where he would not even say ‘boo’ to a goose. He’d travelled since then, explored, developed and created his own new world within the universe created for him by his protective parents.

The gate closing behind him, made a clattering noise as the tepid raid started to descend from the heavens. ‘Typical’, he thought to himself, whilst also muttering other words under his breath. He’d taken step after step, creating a notion of motion from his very emotion. He’d calmed, matured, becoming a work of art from his very own words and actions. He was his very own, solitary, confided, confident problem solver. Too much, too little, with the in between being something unfamiliar to him as well as his friends.

He lifted his jacket hood over his head, feeling the light rain move around him. He’d been here before, the washing away of thoughts, familiarity, as well as the day-to-day spectacle. He wouldn’t call himself a drifter, as he had the usual safe job to undertake, but his very dreams were just that. Drifting. Escaping. Surviving within the wilds of a storm. Grasping the long climb, the adventure and adrenaline of all things. He’d run, tap dance within the very eye of said storm, but life couldn’t and wouldn’t afford him such an escape. The weight of the daily world trapped him, each person around him, to the daily schedule of defined routine.

His brow ruffled at such thoughts. The refined and sampled life reviled him. He’d grasp at normality, but lady luck often threw the dice out of the window and asked him to fetch. He wasn’t one to play by many rules, despite accepting their requirements and limitations.

His bag, to his side, strewn over his shoulder, reminded him to empty a few items upon his next stop. The clutter of life. The dank, dreary, weight of the moments. He had little baggage, despite the little actually amounting to a great, big, crazy deal. He’d been crushed, crafted, thrown and left all in the one sentence within his thoughts. If he could remove all of the sentences, the negative verbs, he truly would. He finally, through all his thoughts, managed to smile at his idiotic meandering.  Without the verbs, there might never have been any understanding, any progression, or even anything at all. The scars would bind moments to a life. His life. The wounds vivid and wild, forming the depth to which he’d experienced the world. He would, despite a few actions here and there, have it no other way.

He seldom appreciated his own efforts to secure his own life and wellbeing. He denied himself credit, due or not, for having the strength to rip his heart in two, to remove himself from a place, a situation, a lover, a smothering situation or worse.  He’d cried, in silence, away from eyes that judged despite wishing to ask for help. His pride, his resourcefulness, eventually becoming a solid foundation to remain strong. He still had his moments of weakness, of solitude and breathlessness, but that was for the shortest of times.

He was once afraid of taking steps, big, small, even medium, all those years previous.  Over the many, many years, he understood and learned that just because he’d taken a step, it did not mean that he had to be afraid or to feel fear. It could be an adventure, an experience, a lifetime event and yet, the next day, almost as if it hadn’t even happened. He’d take the same step, another similar step and it no longer seemed crazy, daunting, or anywhere near as heavy.

It’s what he was used to. That’s how he’d overcome, by taking the steps that he was really afraid of taking. When he really thought about everything, a step would only ever be a step. Moving forward would just be moving forward.  Even deciding to stand still, could be a decision. As long as he was aware.

Now, at this moment in time, walking through the rain to destination unknown, he searched for whatever he was afraid of. His mind answered with near silence. He continued to search for a valid answer and, finally, he realised that he was simply, easily, scared of not constantly, taking… steps.

Glad

I know, I do know. I’m about to type upon a keyboard, to use words and phrases that try to connect to you. I’ll give it a good shot, albeit probably not my best, but I’ll try, nonetheless.

There are, roughly, over seven billion people upon this very world at this second in time. We’re tall, small, medium and large. We’re round and we’re proud, the ying to another’s yang. We smile, we laugh, often cry and sometimes scream to the heavens above. We’re red, blonde, brunettes and sometimes somewhere in between. We’re living, breathing, thinking flesh covered machines and for that, I am glad.

There are billions upon billions of places within this world. Some dark, some dense, some magical and mostly beautiful. You can take a stroll upon a golden sand filled beach, to a solemn walk upon a French cobbled road. We can marvel at the barren arid deserts, as well as the tropical splendour of the forest filled adventures of the world and, for this, I am glad.

There are an infinitely diverse number of structures within this spinning planet. From the fantastically designed sculptures, taken from within the heart of a person, to the crazily manufactured, lob sided, monstrosities of another. The art of creation is the wealth and health for another, and, for this, I am glad.

There are over six hundred thousand words within the English language. The communication of the many, towards the few that we know and embrace within any given space and time. There are words to hold, to scold, the old, the new, the twisted and the true. Whatever we can imagine, we can describe, renew, pursue and make anew. We can express the deepest emotions, exclaim our love or describe our pain and, for this, I am glad.

There are so many moments, within each and every single day. We can take any of those moments, to show that we care, or even if we dare, to be something else. We can embrace, use our memories to retrace, the beauty created within every single one of those moments. The seconds, the minutes, or even the weeks and for this, I am glad.

There are chances for kisses within our expansive worlds. We can send a kiss to a person a thousand miles away, feeling and giving the care that another needs. We can feel the warmth of another, upon us, kissing and sharing the way they truly feel. Each kiss, precious, especially when given with the faith that the ‘one’ cares. We show, we know, we pucker, and we pleasure and for that, I am glad.

I know that I’m just one person, amongst the many, but I do have the fortitude to proclaim a certain belief. There might be billions of people in the world. The many places filled with thousands upon thousands of buildings. Within one of them, maybe many of them, I’ve kissed, and I’ve expressed myself the way many have done before. They’ve taken the moments, they’ve embraced them, held them against their hearts and used many a word to show the person what they are.  You see, no matter the people, the place, the building or the moment’s kiss, I’m just so very, very glad, that amongst all of the above, I’ve been privileged enough to have known… you. For that, I am more than glad, as glad simply doesn’t hold justice for the way I feel.

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