Woman to Woman                   
The Poetry of Oceanldy

 
 
 
Final Plea





My Dearest,

Can words even begin to describe
the searing pain that rips through me
knowing you are home
and not taking my calls?

I understand trying to be strong, 
trying to do what you believe is right.
They say the flesh is weak
and your plan is to keep yours strong
by keeping it away from me.

With time and distance
you believe the need will diminish.
Maybe even someday, the want.

My darling.
Do you really believe these feelings
will fade and go away?
The thunder that we both know
smolders, captured inside you 
can only be calmed by my touch.

Give in to it my Love.

You know it is my lips, my tongue, my touch
which hold the secret combination
to the passion that lies 
beneath your nipples.

Allow me to unlock it once again.
I, and I alone, understand
how to feed the ravenous tiger
of your soul
which paces so patiently
waiting for release,
desiring to be fed,
knowing it waits for 
my return.

My whispered promises
hint to the key of its fulfillment,
so it waits deeply within you.
At times, I think even you
don’t understand it
much less control it.

 The passion which lies dormant
until my touch rekindles
the volcanic lava-flow eruptions

Remember the nights my Love?
 
The all consuming fires 
that glowed between us
until satiated dark hours
kissed the morning light.

If you won’t allow your mind
the pleasure of those moments
you cannot deny your body
of its memory.
The physical does not forget 
and will not stop searching 
until it finds what it hungers for
once again.

This can be predicted with certainty…
peace will elude you,
making you eternally restless,
until you succumb 
to what we both know 
your heart pleads.

…until you are once again in my arms
…until the scent of lust competes
 with wispy smoke of incense,
 curling into the air,
 mimicking your delicious curls
…until the friction of our skin raises
 the temperature of the room
 as our bodies move in harmonic unison.
…until we dance the dance of eternal time.
 Clutching.
 Clinging.
…Until you fall asleep,
 your hair draped over my trembling soul.

When the rapture has revisited,
you shall once again find peace, 
then, and only then,
will calmness return to your spirit.
 

The last time we spoke
you’d complained of the cold.
Don’t’ you see?
The chill comes from within.
Admit to yourself
that I am your heat.

I beg you my precious angel,
tonight,
unlock your back door.

No one needs to know.

It will be a silent reunion.

I promise
to swallow your screams.

c.Ocean 3/96

 
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