Chocolate

Chocolates have always given me food orgasm. Forgive the term, but there’s just something so sexy and primal about eating chocolates. There’s this special moment when this bar, this piece of chocolate passes through your lips and you close your eyes as it melts in your mouth and you say to your self, “so luscious, so yummy, so sinfully good”. And when that’s not enough you lick those little extra chocolates in your fingers. Isn’t that a taste of heaven right there? Like I said, orgasmic.

Sigh.

I wonder why I suddenly thought of chocolates tonight. Recently, I’ve associated chocolates with a person I’m closed with. Like chocolates, he’s dark, I don’t pertain to skin tone, but his personality and disposition is really, really dark. He’s tempting. He’s someone you’d want to be with, but, you won’t choose to be with him. He’s also sweet. I remember this chaste kiss he sort of, whispered, on my head. It was so unlike him, so alien, so… sweet, albeit sometimes, bittersweet and such is the sentiment. But indulgence in chocolates, no matter how delectable, is just not healthy.

I’m thinking Couverture or dark chocolates, strawberries, vanilla ice cream and a shot of rhum. Chocolate man, you just made me ache.

Chocolate-starved.

Cafe Au Lait

Let's call this rantings, "my ramblings".

This is a byproduct of boredom, insanity, and creativity brought about the crashing of my perfect little world some time ago.

I've always preferred my coffee black. Strong, pure, bitter but the taste really lasts. 

I wonder how a little extra something will taste in my mounth, something like, milk.

Times like these makes me itch for a trashy novel and straight shot of vodka. Toss in a hot guy for good measure.

Tsk. Cafe au lait it is.

Sun and Calm

I keep going back to the one thing I need to walk away from. I am so consumed and yet I deny myself of this blatant fact. I have let myself try to let go. 

It's hard. 

I would sooner hit my head on the wall than accomplish the aforementioned. I'm sick. I'm so sick of being in love with a monster of a man. But he is no monster. I have placed him high on a pedestal yielding him much power on me. Strange. His hold on me has always been an enigma. That it be retained to this very day after the lies, deceit, the cheating, the pain. I am beginning to manifest masochistic tendencies. I seem to anchor myself in my pain. Unhealthy. But what am I to do?

I waste away in sighs, in tears, in hope, and in regret. All for the promise of an unsure and most probably a painful tomorrow.

The sun shines when the heaven clears, there's a calm after the storm. Where art thou oh sun that doth heaven hides from me? Where art thou my calm I've sought for over a time?

Let Me Love

Let me not despair.

Let me not go unsatisfied.

I anticipate,

I crave.

Let me be inflamed.
Let me burn so intense.

I yearn to be consumed,

To be taken.

Let me not be accounted for being an earthly woman.
Let me not be judged for wanting wanton abandonment.

Let me not be  misread for wanting such want.

Just.

Wanting

It is daylight. The sun descends on the sinews of his skin. I follow the ripples, every contour of that which is him. I remember the throes of passion from the night before. It was a secret shared under the moon's watchful eye where none existed but he and I . Like the softest whisper, I brush my lips to his. I hear his sharp intake of breath. I feel his uneven breathing. He opens his eyes, unprepared. I see his eyes, dilated. This tells me that he is wanting. Again, he is wanting.

I brushed my lips to his eyes while I thread my fingers through his hair. I breathed in to the smell that is him. I felt his hands running down my spine, and I shiver. I felt his lips on my neck and I purr. I ran my fingers, grazing my nails at his chest. I rise above him and stared into his eyes. I smiled a wicked smile. I hear him moan, oh how it feels so good to hear a man moan. I put butterfly kisses on his neck. I mapped my way down... and then when his breath went unsteady, I took him fully. I took him to me. I hear him gasp. I devoured his very soul. I see his hands clenched, and I could feel that he's losing it. 

And he's lost.

I rise and he stared at me, mute. But his eyes speak loud enough, they tell me, " I want you."

I smiled and simply said, "good morning."

Confession

I confess that there is a man who holds my heart, hence, my will as well.

I confess that it is not but love alone but also idolatry, and he, the deity of my idolatrous soul.

I confess that not only do I love such a man, but that I lust for him too.

I confess that that it is his face I see before I surrender to slumber.

I confess that that it is still his face I see in my dreams.

I confess that I covet the wild passion we shared.

I confess that I yearn for his touch and lingering kisses.

I confess that I long to be consumed by him, to be filled and devoured.

I confess that I find ecstasy in his arms and in his arms alone.

I confess that I am and forever will be his.

I confess that I am lost to such a man.

I confess that I have damned myself by doing so.

I repent that I can't be with him now.

But I do not repent my love, my passion, and my yearning.