Dowager Queen Dressed Like A Nun

Photo by Maria Luiza Melo on Pexels.com

Dowager Queen dressed like a nun
Looking for courtesies in murky nights
Whispering to me “this is gonna be fun”
Shadows dance in tranquil candlelight

I’m all in as she shucks her brassiere
Mixing metaphors with her gin
Titillated whenever she comes near
Pulling lace away from her original sin

Knowing The Bottom Of The Depths

Knowing the bottom of the depths
Untold theories where passion lies
Encased all in a delicate French lace
The truth that logic & gravity defies

Earthbound creatures can’t be understood
It’s simply not in our fallible DNA
Attempted in conversational tones
But we’ve lost connection anyway

Trying to find a way back to the meaning
Reason doesn’t apply to moments like this
Disregard the pressures of our past
That we might create our own sustainable bliss

Image by Dayron Villaverde from Pixabay 

Counting Out The Steps

Counting out the steps
Crawling on all fours
One, two three, one two, three
You deny the circus, but they’re really yours

Giving her another twirl
We’re standing naked & stark
You speak your pretentious slang
Only exposed in the dark

I’m here with your midnight medicine
My beautiful babe, bottoms up!
But I remain steadfast
Watching you spill out of your lace cups

I Often Catch Myself

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I often catch myself

Glancing up at your windowpane

Occasionally seeing a silhouette

Memories of youth still remain

 

Possibly spying a lacy chemise

But now you’re wearing the curtains

Or maybe there was nothing on

But I couldn’t know for certain

 

The morning light not quite seen

I might feel like a common creeper

Alternate lifetimes in my mind

Yet I know you’d still be a keeper

I see your beautiful soul hiding

That passionate soul now a mere outline

Locked away in your precious life

I’m sure you’d say you’re ‘doing fine’

 

Possibly spying a lacy chemise

But now you’re wearing the curtains

Or maybe there was nothing

But I couldn’t know for certain

 

I see boundaries in your thought

I’m not intending to be rude

You can make your own decisions

I don’t wish to trespass nor intrude

You’re the princess in your castle

Not a figment of my invention

Locked eyes before you look away

Somehow grateful for the attention

Textured Mornings

Textured mornings
Sitting around waiting on the French press
Remnants of dreams & pleas
Filtered through a truncated dress
Beneath lies details
Of scattered lace & bows
But in the end, emotion far outweighs my prose

I Didn’t Mean To Get Too Personal

Photo by Francesca Zama on Pexels.com

I didn’t mean to get too personal
I merely noticed your exposed slip
My thoughts took me to uncharted waters
Thinking of us – alone- a subtle skinny dip
An abandoned wedding gown crumpled
The satin too white against your lace
I didn’t know what I was supposed to feel
Though I could see the muted joy in your face
You kicked off your heels & removed your gloves
Walking too close you whispered ‘yes’ to my surprise
I loosened my tie before you took charge
I’ll never forget how you looked with your laughing eyes