Vacant (Not Meant To Be Alone)

If you must touch me in your way,
that deepest part no one has known,
you'll find more things than I can say
explaining why I've been alone.

My heart is vacant, but can smile,
it's not as if it's made of stone,
though it's been empty for a while
perhaps some feeling might be grown.

There's still a bit of hope in me
reflecting love I've never known,
and if you find it, you will see,
it is not meant to be alone.



Velvet

Departure was not made without aversion to
her affectionate persuasiveness.
Influence can be opposed by a
complete reform, a spread of principles,
organizing at the time a dramatic and
startling extension of preservation, until
she spreads her legs.

Inducements, no illusions about the
quality, despite the faithless, peerages are
formed of the pledged mindedness of
her bidding.
His mouth unconsciously opened,
while the heat of her sex poured through him with
unsparing tide.

Screaming in discordant chorus,
mocking all goodly things.
Defy the face of the deliverer, a
shocking sacrilege to the
whipped and squirming.
A vivid awakening, under his castigation,
a roaring passion crammed and surrounded by
masses of throbbing flesh.
Flaying the layers of defiance,
downy soft thighs cherish the
one ray of pure religion.

Glows a singular spark of
rousing verdict. There be none.
Scarlet and pink ermine worn upon lips-
lathered, promoted him to carnal confession.
The far-reaching effect, nipples,
by their aching growth delighted at
his lavishing reverence of her sweetly,
oozing womb.

A watchful shadow among this
mound of fruit-sweet human flesh.
Pale eyes loitered in the shade of
orgasm and esoteric beginnings to ends.
The woman glanced idly at the
sparkling river flowing.

Dwelling in the depths of
the watery realm of erupting seas,
invisible to the swift, curving claws raking flesh-
for more.

Land wind, inexorably drawn through
translucent walls stole the night sky and
they fainted.

Crouched, motionless, broken by tiny lights of
mortal pleasure, helpless pretty baubles glittering
seductively but by the rhapsody cup of
her velvets and silks.



Violin String

In natural state upon palm she lays,
in sinuous curve, spiral coil;
As he lifts up his hand she swirls in play,
he tethers her to start his toil.

The turn of a key extends her length full,
the master's hand stretches her tight;
elongates her line with one final pull,
as she tenses, he surveys the sight.



Copyright © 2005 Linda Marie Van Tassell.
May not be reproduced or distributed in any manner without permission.
All Rights Reserved.