It’s a knock on the door,
the turn of a key in a lock;
a click of a dress shoe’s heel;
checkered socks on dark hardwood
It’s a kiss on the cheek,
the whiff of sweet perfume
on the nape of a neck;
gentle passions burning,
aflame like a candle’s wick
It’s the heat of a hand,
rough fingers extending;
the warmth of a sigh;
a shudder of anticipation
waiting for a breath
It’s the thump of a heart,
beads of delight dripping
onto softly parted lips;
eager moans beckoning,
the deepening of eternity.
The perfect drizzle
defines the line between today and tomorrow
A morose specimen,
far too endearing to share with our peers
peers out of its receptacle;
a chill destroys its resolve
“if only pigs could fly,
then I’d get myself out of this darned mess.”
It thinks, unwillingly.
The home of a collector
is not to be taken lightly
on days where the sun’s power dwindles
and the comings of months of death
appear on the horizon.
One step at a time,
it creeps, occasionally lurching
towards a white cover of bliss.
Brought back to the silence
of a city’s breath drawn again
when a cloak of winter descends
leaving everything amiss.
At times, when the sea of stars seems
to lose itself in vastness of the night
I’ve often longed to hear crisp footsteps,
ones I’ve dreamt of ad-nauseam;
despite the harsh and cruel winter,
they echo the sound of my love’s path
finally finding its way back
into the warmth of my tender embrace.
An absence of the mind,
brings thoughtful possessions
of dancing tongues
to a staggering halt
at the foot of a mountain.
A mountain of emotions,
so steep and slippery and tall
one might as well be swallowing soap
and trying to fly upwards
floating atop bubbles of bile.
An influence of the Universe,
vast and fearless in her knowledge
pushes Lilith to move on, evermore
beyond understanding and will,
she cries and begs it all to stop.
A peaceful anguish in knowing nothing,
desperately searching for meaning
in the heart ache and the projection
of loved ones gone and forgotten,
Lilith stands alone, once more, forever.
How does one love?
For is the love of love itself not a confusion,
A disarray of synapses, receiving tiny bolts of information
That make us believe a familiarity, of sorts, can give way
To a rumbling inside that can barely be contained.
But how can this be?
The intensity rises with every thought,
Mouth-watering passion, so thick in the air, you can taste it.
I can smell you, kiss you, taste you, breathe you, swallow you…
Surely this is not merely a figment, or a chemical imbalance.
Do we ever truly love?
The overwhelming need to bond, and retain our feet on solid ground,
Makes one forget that life is more than babbling babes and blue balls
It is adventure; the glance of a flame-haired beauty, across the bar
A piece of silk floating in the window of the forgotten hotel room.
So, what is love, love?
Love is the salty taste of your lips after a run.
It’s the gentle strength of your hand against my cheek.
The softness of your touch when you part my thighs.
It is the warmth of your smile when you lose yourself in thought.
The fullness of your laughter when you can’t contain your amusement.
It is the depth of our souls intertwining, time and time again.
But love is also knowing how to let go when our time is up,
Just to welcome you back in tender embrace, every time you return.
Love is knowing that I am yours, beyond convention and expectation.
It is knowing that you are mine, and that I hold the key to your heart.
Even if no one else will ever know, and we are forever worlds apart.
We are love, love.
© 2019 Lilith Ember All Rights Reserved
A thousand times I could die
Waiting for your love.
A wailing heart brings forth a song,
Of melancholy and mourning
For a love that only exists inside a box.
Unlatching, a tiny dancer turns
In melodic perfection, a pirouette of desire
What goes around, comes around, as they say.
She turns, again and again,
Always facing herself in the end.
Perfect imperfections splattered on a soul,
She’s there, at the tip of a tongue…
Little. Love. Lust. Lilith. Linger…
Never will her step falter,
For her puppeteer knows no other melody,
Save that of forgiveness and sorrow.
Alone, she turns, again and again,
Facing only but herself in the end.
© 2019 Lilith Ember All Rights Reserved
Everywhere I look, you’re there, somewhere
A subtly stifled smirk, unbeknownst to others,
A mirrored image in the gleaming window,
The steady tap, tap, tap of the beat of a drum,
The crisp sound of shoes on freshly fallen snow.
When did you become my haven,
The place in which I’ll forever feel safe and warm.
An ocean of love, narrowly navigated by the few
Who can embrace unlikely truths and unusual encounters?
Kiss me on a stormy morning,
Wipe away my tears as the rain draws lines on the panes.
Pull me in close, against your beating heart,
Compel the pain away with your radiant heat.
Hold my cheek and urge me to sleep.
Partout où erre l’oeil, tu es là, quelque part
Un sourire narquois subtil, inconnu des autres,
Une image miroir dans une fenêtre luisante,
Le battement continu du tambour,
La clarté des pas sur une neige fraîche.
Quand es-tu devenu mon havre,
Le refuge où toujours je serai en sécurité
Un Océan d’amour, navigué tendrement par ceux
Qui enlacent les vérités des rencontres inhabituelles?
Embrasse-moi par une matinée tempétueuse,
Essuie mes larmes au rythme de la pluie sur les carreaux.
Tiens-moi fort, contre ton coeur battant
Éteins la douleur avec ta chaleur radieuse
Caresse ma joue et invite le sommeil.
© 2019 Lilith Ember All Rights Reserved
Delicate dove in your hands,
You encourage my flight.
Warm lanterns in the shadows,
A gentle keeper of my love.
Through restraints of passion,
True colours shine
Painting, etching, sculpting…
My body your eternal canvas
Your ropes a medium of your love,
An expression of your desire.
In your hands,
I hurt, I melt, I love, I sigh, I hang, I cry.
Your tight grip,
Like a warm embrace on my soul
Harks the moment of transcendence,
Freeing me from my corporeal bindings.
I can see you clearly; in spirit.
Brilliant light; enveloping.
Every rotation, fold, tie, twist,
Speaks more than a thousand words.
Interpreters of inspiration,
We speak a common language:
‘The beauty of tight binding.’
The Muse of your musings,
I humbly accept the offerings at my feet.
With spread legs, and eager hands,
My body is yours to please and cherish.
Tickle me with your tongue,
Reach into the depths of my being,
To gently release me into your world.
© 2019 Lilith Ember All Rights Reserved
