He is the captain, old salt, ever returning to his love. She is his queen, ever waiting at the shore; eyes to the horizon, feet sunk in the sand. Her longing is heavy and dreadful, his reunion lustful and manic.

I love kissing so please appreciate the restraint I show when I hold you by the throat and let you pant and gasp and crane your neck in a needy and pathetic attempt to reach my lips.

I tell myself bedtime stories at night.

I fill them with romance and flowers and love notes. Holding hands and shoulder kisses. Long mornings, warm bedsheets, hot coffee. Poetry. Museums. Conversations in music. Deep laughs, private jokes. And you're there.

You're there, too.

#loveletters

Love me hard.
Love me with your touches and your tongue.
Dive into my soul and grab ahold of my sexual demon.
Kiss her on the mouth and suck her through my flesh.

#loveletters

You've built your shrine and I have fallen into apostacy.

#loveletters

And then I looked up, and all the leaves were suddenly gone from the trees. No color, no vibrance. Just the empty, naked branches holding old bird's nests and other fallen trees, weary from a forgotten storm and sodden roots.

#poetry #monochrome #photography #nature

There is a gnawing voice inside my head that chews on my spirit for fun and grinds it's boots against the spine of my confidence.

The crunching and cracking, the tearing, the quick and constant saltiness poured and pressed into the slashes, it's all become a never ending torment.

I hope what you took from me filled you for even a moment. Your bottomless needs and hungers were wailing for nourishment, I understood.

And I was happy to feed them to give you peace.

And I was happy to starve to give you what I had gathered for myself.

And I was happy, then.

#poetry

She wispers to me...

"Some girls aren't made for holding hands and candlelit kisses."

And then She hisses...

"Some girls are poetry and others are porn."

#poetry

Do you feel me when I melt into the memory of you and whimper my prayer? Can you hear your name falling from my lips in that most perfect moment? Let me curl up inside your ribcage and hold that pounding flesh to my cheek. Give me my daily bread...

#loveletters #poetry #photography

The most important thing in writing is to finish. A finished thing can be fixed. A finished thing can be published. A finished thing can be made into a movie.

An unfinished thing is just a dream. And dreams fade if you don't hold on tight enough.

So finish the thing.

An offering of a drop when I desire a deluge.

#photography #naturephotography #poetry

"Again."
His voice, like a whip, cracks at me.
"Again. I know you can do it.
Do it for me."
Crack, crack.
His will is absolute. Imperious.
"Say it."
"Now."
His staccato slashes me, carves me.
He's making me. Creating me.
His music, his sculpture, his art.

A kiss of tequila on my lips and I'm straddling your mind and fucking my way through to your deepest thoughts.

My love letter to you is written in my hips. Read along with your eyes. Feel each word, as my waves crash into your bow. A heart with your initials and a kiss to seal.