Slight touch - E. A. (psychology books to read txt) 📗
- Author: E. A.
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Parallel
She loved him far too much,
he wanted her far too much,
he pursued her once she smiled at him
she pursued him once he ran away,
he missed her for a while when she was gone,
she missed him even when he was home,
he didn't try to forget her, no use at all,
he left her in a corner of his mind,
she tried not to think of him and succeeded,
she did not think of him at all.
But then, she never thought of her soul,
her soul lived in her and so did he.
Discoveries
In the joyous light of our encounter
lay the darkness of our parting,
in our burning desire for each other
lay the cold detachment of later days.
The death of feeling and recognition
hid in the frenzy of spiralling climaxes
while the coldness of our goodbye
waited on our exhausted, satiated flesh,
lying on entangled embroidered sheets,
in a semi-lit room reeking of roses and sex.
Transformations
The arms of an abandoned woman
become the hands of a huge clock
moving resignedly to meet the hour,
while holding the pain of the world.
The eyes of an abandoned woman
become beacons in the darkness,
bearing witness to the grief around.
The legs of an abandoned woman
carry her through old, forgotten roads,
looking for a place she can call home.
Nothing
Nothing, Your elusive presence
still haunts the persistent silence.
Nothing. Your boyish smile of old
still dances wrapped in memories.
Nothing. Your voice of soft tones
still echoes in the growing distance.
Nothing. Your body of graceful lines
still rests nearby in a time long lost.
Nothing, nothing, just faded hours,
just broken crystals, just empty rooms,
just silence broken by droplets of blood
dripping slowly from a grieving heart.
Cynical lady
Cynical lady,
she has seen a lot,
has been used,
ghosted, abused,
seen her best friend
flirting with her man,
the one she used to love.
Cynical lady,
she has won and lost.
Cynical lady,
refusing to give up,
going on relentlessly,
in pursuit of nothing
and willing to try it all.
Epiphany
It was in the madness of lust
that I found my purest moment.
In the raw melting of orgasm
I found Death and defied her.
It was then I reached the Divine,
while agonizing amidst spasms,
it was then I learnt I was yours
and yet I was dangerously free,
like the wind in the desert,
free to live throughout our desire,
to wander through the realm of lust,
to become one with the elusive flame,
the one that ignites and feeds life.
Pictures
Ice cold droplets on rosebuds
fated to die under the first frost,
an untended garden lost in time,
a house blurred in the fog,
hours rushing to their swift end,
unopened books inviting dust,
a sun struggling pitifully to rise,
a moon declining its own light,
crystals shattered on old stones,
ashes gathering in misty winds,
all telling the bittersweet story
of a thwarted old love affair,
lost in the darkest folds of the mind.
Odd timing
She looked at him in awe
and saw her past revisited,
she looked at him hopefully
and saw her uncertain future.
He just looked at her intently
and saw only the present.
And it is now, years later,
she lives only in the present
while he thinks of their past
and still regrets not finding her
in his bright, promising future.
Paradoxes
Time and gardens
go together,
love and roses
go together
crystals and rain
go together,
fireplaces and Winter
also go together…
We, on the other hand,
shared time in gardens,
enjoyed love and roses,
loved raindrops on crystals,
cuddled near the fireplace
in cold, ice-cold Winters,
and yet, sadly enough,
we are no longer together.
Tribute
I found in your body,
traces of other climaxes,
other skins and moans,
madness and pain mingled.
I found fading echoes
of women willingly trapped
in the allure of your demands.
I inhaled the powerful scent
of rampant desire struggling
for chain-breaking release.
I saw not only you
but the countless others,
I heard their soft sighs
and your name strangling
their fragile collared throats.
I saw them die in orgasms
to revive under your cold gaze,
looking in vain for some love.
I saw them building houses,
houses of sweet domestic bliss,
doomed to fall onto shifting sands.
They didn´t know you at all;
naive like moths near a flame
they built around you a story,
a story pitied by the gods,
a story mocked by spectres.
I saw it all and yet I lost myself
in the intricate garden of your mind,
throwing fears to the whims of life,
while willingly paying homage
in the power-hungry temple of your body.
Findings
Just the sanding of the years
on a wall still firm and strong,
just the flaking here and there,}
while TIme smiles and goes on.
Just a few more marks and lines
on a surface still quite smooth,
while events unfold and fade,
while peace and turmoil meet
and love and desire rub elbows
with the paleness of dying seconds.
My Valentine
Even if other arms claim you in lust,
even if the trace of your passions
still lingers in other beds, other rooms,
in cities lost in labyrinths of memory.
Even it the portals of your playful heart
have opened to multiple affections,
stories fueled by pain and also desire,
even if the caresses of unforgiving Time
slowly cover your once worshipped body,
wrapping your limbs in elusive immortality
.I will still celebrate your very existence,
I will still keep the finest red rose for you,
you are and will always be my Valentine.
Love
Love, the one luring us all,
the eternally elusive one,
the prize we covet,
the reward we seek,
the unspoken goal,
the hidden agenda,
the strawberry on the cake.
Love, master, and slave,
dominant and sub,
rope and knots,
links and chain.
Love, dungeon, and cells,
bedrooms and gardens,
portals and bridges,
towers and castles.
Love, masked faces
in the Venetian night,
mantles hiding bodies
lost in multiple climaxes.
Love, the only reason
we live and we die.
Buenos Aires, February 2019.
Where are you?
Where are you, beloved
What keeps you away?
Why does only silence
answer my words?
The night soothes me
she knows my secrets,
she knows my pain.
The pale moon guards me,
the sun´s forgotten my face.
Still, the river remembers,
the stones hold our story,
the streets echo our steps,
the city breathes our names!
Buenos Aires, February 2019.
"Lovers"
They parted one day,
under a cold bridge,
she cried that night,
he merely survived.
Oh, yes, they lived to tell,
cried and also laughed,
raised glasses of champagne
towards fading lights.
Under crystal chandeliers,
in mansions well known,
they did everything to forget,
they certainly went on.
After all, it was not such a big deal
that when glasses clank
and lights faded into nothing,
when lovers held them tight,
they heard the other´s name
whispered in the twilight.
February 2019.
Beloved
And it is now, right now,
when my hourglass
threatens me from its place,
when your absence
speaks from the roots of silence,
when only your shadow
visits my nights and bed
that I can grasp at last,
the immensity of the abyss
that used to engulf us
in the blessed madness
of spiralling climaxes.
Buenos Aires, February 2019.
Hidden thorn
It is not your absence,
the main source of pain,
it is not the distance,
that causes despair,
it is not time and choices
that cause disappointment,
but the certainty ,the fact,
you never got to enjoy my body,
the pleasures it could give you,
the shudders that lead inevitably
to climax and oblivion.
For, what is pleasure,
but an exhausted body
and a mind rejoicing
in the joy received and given?
I could not pay you my last homage
and this is the hidden thorn
In the red rose of my passion.
Wolverine
I roam the dark night,
I hide in doorways,
I get lost in darkness
to be reborn in lust.
I roam the dark night,
looking for pleasure,
looking for the one,
I am no woman,
just endless dark nights,
I am no friend, no foe,
a wolverine on the prowl,
with fiery eyes, soft step,
strong body and bare fangs.
Reunion
In a dimly lit chamber,
you wait for me,
wearing a black mask.
You sit and wait calmly,
as you know I will arrive.
I enter and look at you,
time has respected you,
hours have been kind,
life has nourished you
with unexpected tricks,
and odd surprises.
I just enter and feel
my clothes bother us both
I undress before you,
your eyes follow me,
behind the black mask.
waiting for me to get near.
I do so and I feel a jolt,
desire urges me forward,
I extend my trembling hands
and find myself caught
in the iron circle of your arms.
Forgotten woman
The limbs of a forgotten woman
are like hands of a dead clock,
trying to turn and signal the hours
only to find stillness and silence.
Desire flows through her body,
only to find its object gone,
tears of pain and solitary climaxes
course her face erasing hope.
The body of a forgotten woman,
becomes a memory in itself,
a trodden upon, well-known territory,
owing no excuses to a fancy map.
The spirit of a forgotten woman
becomes the one that nurtures her
pushes her forward in cold nights
and teaches her old female secrets
to go on in search of her own sun.
An affair
An affair hides the clocks of Time
under its brief encounters,
hides the desperate prayer
for desire to keep flowing..
An affair defies Time and Death
in its mad pursuit of Pleasure,
an affair refuses to become
just dry rose petals between pages
of some old book on a forgotten shelf.
When passion strikes
When passion strikes, brace yourself
for there might be no tomorrows.
When passion strikes, cross yourself
for you might have been cursed.
When passion strikes, take care
because you will forget your fears
and trust your steps as never before,
seek encounters with the forbidden
laughing at the faces of Time and Death.
Master beloved
Oh, master beloved,
how your touch is missed,
how your voice searched
in the sounds lost in memory…
Oh, master beloved,
how your scent is lingering
on my skin you knew so well…
Oh, master beloved,
our distance and silence
are also a game of discipline.
Hers and his
Her dream was to bear
his mark on her skin,
to get to sleep in his arms,
bathed in his maleness
and her own joyful tears.
Her dream was to live
in awe and gratitude
at the renewed miracle
of his mere existence.
His dream was to hold her
till time was no more,
the world was kept at bay,
and they were alone at last
to die and be born again
in the madness of passion.
Just now
Just now I remembered you,
years have not faded your memory,
time has not killed my feelings,
desire flows through muy veins
and my spirit remains indómitable.
You gave me once the gift of lust,
of laughter in the face of time,
of love wrapped in companionship
and that stays in me, untarnished,
just like the scent of your skin
in the long nights of solitude,
in the fading seconds, in the lost hours.
Why?
Why did they meet?
Was it fate or bad karma?
They met to want each other,
they met to hate each other,
they met to run to each other,
they met to dump each other.
Was it fate, just bad karma?
Or perhaps just twisted love,
masked as casual desire,
hidden between soiled sheets,
lost even before it blossomed.
Daze
I slept under an old tree,
when I woke up
the garden was no more.
I slept under a cloud,
when I woke up
the sky was no more.
I slept under the moon,
when I woke up
the night was no more.
Garden, sky and night,
dreams within a dream...
who knows when we are awake,
who knows if we are still asleep...
Beauty
And I saw her and then I knew
everything was right.
The circle closed and opened again
completion and freedom
both surrendered us to light.
Parallel
She loved him far too much,
he wanted her far too much,
he pursued her once she smiled at him
she pursued him once he ran away,
he missed her for a while when she was gone,
she missed him even when he was home,
he didn´t try to forget her, no use at all,
he left her in a corner of his mind,
she tried not to think of him and succeeded,
she did not think of him at all.
But then, she never thought of her soul,
her soul lived in her and so did he.
Discoveries
In the joyous light of our encounter
lay the darkness of our parting,
in our burning desire for each other
lay the cold detachment of later days.
The death of feeling and recognition
hid in the frenzy of spiralling climaxes
while the coldness of our goodbye
waited on our exhausted, satiated flesh,
lying on entangled embroidered sheets,
in a semi-lit room reeking of roses and sex.
Transformations
The arms of an abandoned woman
become the hands of a huge clock
moving resignedly to meet the hour,
while holding the pain of the world.
The eyes of an abandoned woman
become beacons in the darkness,
bearing witness to the grief around.
The legs of an abandoned woman
carry her through old, forgotten roads,
looking for a place she can call home.
from spilling her blood on the ground.
Nothing
Nothing, Your elusive presence
still haunts the persistent silence.
Nothing. Your boyish smile of old
still dances wrapped in memories.
Nothing. Your voice of soft tones
still echoes in the growing distance.
Nothing. Your body of graceful lines
still rests nearby in a time long lost.
Nothing, nothing, just faded hours,
just broken crystals, just empty rooms,
just silence broken by droplets of blood
dripping slowly from a grieving heart.
Cynical lady
Cynical lady,
she has seen a lot,
has been used,
ghosted, abused,
seen her best friend
flirting with her man,
the one she used to love.
Cynical lady,
she has won and lost.
Cynical lady,
refusing to give up,
going on relentlessly,
in pursuit of nothing
and willing to try it all.
Epiphany
It was in the madness of lust
that I found my purest moment.
In the raw melting of orgasm
I found Death and defied her.
It was then I reached the Divine,
while agonizing amidst spasms,
it was then I learnt I was yours
and yet I was dangerously free,
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