A Letter to Open My Soul

Sweet lady,

Our springtime turned so quickly into autumn. The chill in the air pushes my thoughts to warmer times when we bathed in the sunshine. I reminisce with smiles and tears, and I keep the feelings going. I know you do, too. We share that.

Our connection was forbidden, our lust sanctioned. Judgements surrounded us. Marriage vows, motherhood, the contract, legalities, moralities, and rational thinking conspired against us. The surrender was inevitable.

Still, there are remnants: the pictures. Your blue eyes invite me to swim in them, to submerge myself deeply in the windows of your soul. I want to dive in, to feel you, to experience you physically and emotionally. I want your laughter and your tears. I want to touch you in every way I can touch you.

We should meet in secret. Break the rules. Rent a room in a bordello for a night. Let us be so very wicked when we meet. Mirrors on the ceiling above a round brass king bed, red blankets with pink cushions, paintings of naked women in sensual poses adorning the walls in the dim light of the inner sanctum of a whorehouse. Yes, let us party in the surroundings of sin!

With you, there is no hurry. Savor. Slow, always slow. The journey is more valuable than the climax. Let us grind and slither as we move together as one, touching, kissing, gasping our warm breaths. I can feel you. Our fantasies are infused with the vapors of opium. We float as we dream of our escape into each other.

I want to give you the gift of being a Goddess. I want to make you feel your Beauty the way that I feel it every time I look at you. I want to see your smile as I look with awe into the depths of your beautiful blue eyes. I want you to feel my gratitude as I lightly run my hands over the sensual curves of your naked body. You are my Aphrodite, my Helen of Troy. Let me worship you by giving you the gift of unbridled pleasure, unlimited without boundaries or restraints. Allow me to pour my passion into you. I give you my strength, my experience, my love, and my throbbing desire for you. It is my dream to feel your orgasm as you shudder in ecstasy, lost in the sexual nirvana we bring each other to. I will kiss your feet, absorb your heat, and spread your legs wide to bury my hungry tongue in your fountain.

I write poetry for you. May I recite one to you as I look into your eyes while we make love? You know the words come from the depths of my being. Will you allow me to give them to you like that?

I want to giggle with you as we tell each other our intimate secrets in whispers in the dark. It would strengthen our bond. I want to know those things. I want to be the only one you tell. (I know you're smiling as you read this.)

I want to laugh so hard with you. I want to cry with you. Will you hold me? I am not afraid to be vulnerable with you.

You will give in reciprocation. I know your secrets, I know your needs. I am not afraid to take you there. You crave the thrilling excitement of male authority over you. You want power play. Hand me the whip on your knees, crawl to me, assume the Position, and demonstrate your submission. I will accept it. Submission opens your soul. It allows you to be free. Your surrender is your source of joy. We can celebrate it to its fullest intensity, getting lost in each other, forgetting to think, just feeling each other, feeding off each other's desires. Let us give until exhaustion depletes us.

You are my Muse. You bring out my song. This stream of thoughts flows to you.

You are hearing me. You are reading me. You are feeling me. I am reaching you. I know. My ocean eyes can see you. You don't have to tell me, you don't have to explain. I know.

Twelve will forever be our number. I send you the scent of a dozen red roses with petals that will never droop.

I will come to you. It can be done. I will bring the black you gave me, and you will wear the pink I crave. Oh, girl! The indescribable intensity of consummating so many years of tension and waiting. I quiver.

We are roiling. There is pain that we accept. I have not forgotten you. Time is an ocean, but it ends at the shore. I stand on the beach, watching the waves washing in, wondering if the ship will sail again.