hid[den]

Posted in Crimson Writ on August 31st, 2020 by D'jaevle

the beauty of darkness
is the absence
of shame
and the possibility
of
everything else.

“No, don’t turn on the light. Stand there.”

You are silhouette in my door.

I am a voice in the room.

“Strip.”

You do. Of course you do.

“Turn around.”

I watch you make a slow, almost timid, turn in place. There is just enough light for me to take in your naked curves.

“Good girl.”

“Now come in.”

“And close the door.”

spilt

Posted in Poetry on August 26th, 2020 by D'jaevle

you like to hold
your cup
like it might
shatter
if I speak.

I noticed today
that you put
all the glassware
behind the cereal

so I’m waiting
to see
if you ask me
for milk.

balance

Posted in Crimson Writ on August 11th, 2020 by D'jaevle

“No, don’t move.”

My words rest precariously upon your skin.

You sway. Teeter.

It is hard to stand with your ankles bound tightly together.

And my fingers curled deep inside you from behind.

And my teeth nipping the edge of your ear.

And my cock pressing rigid and hot against your thigh.

But I expect you to do it anyway.

Choked.

Posted in Crimson Writ, Poetry on August 10th, 2020 by D'jaevle

choked

on my words
placed
so delicately
upon your tongue

you are taught
to respect
prohibitions
by force

“what will you do
when my reach is so long
I can pluck your sins
like over-ripe cherries?”

your answer
is no answer at all
because you cannot speak
with my words
filling
and burning
your mouth

placed.

Posted in General Musings on August 9th, 2020 by D'jaevle

you
are placed.

for you, I create
sanctuary

a sacred
space

with dark corners
    to hide in

a pedestal
    to stand
bared
    (exposed)
upon

light
    to dance
within

stained-glass windows
    to shatter

my hands
    to hold
care
  and
ply
  you

you
are placed.

to know
your place