Wings for Soaring

2006-07-12T19:54:00.000-07:00

Anticipation. Standing on the front porch with nerves fluttering in your stomach. Unsure of what will happen next. Can’t wait to find out what’s coming in the distance for you. Straining your eyes, you can barely see the fuzzy shape in the distance. Your face rumpled and distorted with trying to pick out any detail of the figure ahead. The advance is agonizingly slow. The wait, the anticipation, it’s killing you. Your feet start to hurt; your back starts to ache. You see all the things flying by you, but you have to wait. As you wait longer the excitement fades. Impatience takes root. Makes you feel anxious and nervous. Anticipation is replaced with depression. Feeling worthless just waiting, going through the motions. No monumental changes. Anxiety sets in. Will it ever reach you? Are you even worthy of it? Doubt washes over you. Do I even want this anymore? Is it worth it? Wondering if the choices you made have damned you into the hell of waiting. Knowing it’s your fault. You are desperate to start doing something worthwhile, yet so disgusted at yourself for doubting. It finally reaches you, this thing you endured for. You are so beaten down by self-loathing and doubt that it doesn’t matter anymore.

2006-05-22T11:19:00.000-07:00

She is modest, you can tell just by gazing briefly at her. Conservative is the only way to describe her style. Yet look longer and you see something else. A calculation. Is it the hem of her skirt dancing lightly exposing her knees that gives her a way? Maybe it’s the taste of flesh exposed by her v-neck sweater. Perhaps it’s the strip of mid drift that comes to view every time she does that careless stretch. It doesn’t matter what made you realize, but you do now. You are entranced. Caught in her web, unable to look a way. Her every move makes you sweat. Just watching winds you up inside. You see the all the things you want to do to her. Come up behind her and press her back against you. Maybe take a taste of her skin at the nape of her neck. See her arch against you, just like she arches when she stretches. Sliding your hands into her shirt. Unveiling what she has covered. Pulling her hair out of that modest bun. Making her admit that she is not conservative at all. Admit that she is a sexual being. Admit she was hiding behind her clothes. Admit that she never fooled you. You found her. You know who she is.

You know he is watching. You play into it. You don’t know who he is but you can feel his eyes upon you. He has you flustered. You skin warms up and tingles every time he glances your way. Aware of everything you are doing. You cross your legs slowly, letting the hem of your skirt come up. Showing him a little of the skin you know he wants to see. When his eyes come towards you again you stretch slowly, arching your back and bring your hands up. Pressing your breasts out. Feeling his eyes stray where you want them. Imagining they are his hands. Pressing into your body. You nipples contract at the thought. You know he sees it, so you bring your arms down. Does he suspect you know? Can he tell you are moving for just for him? Does he know that his watching is impacting your body? Making you sweat. You want to bring your eyes to his, and acknowledge him, let him know you want him. But you can’t. You aren’t brave enough. Too shy, but you will play his game. Let him watch, you will continue to posture for him. Hoping he makes a move, but content to let things continue. One day you know you know something will happen. You know one day you will let him be the one to make your fantasies come true. That he will be the one to unleash you. He is going to bring you out of your shell. Yes, it is going to happen.

Haiku

2006-05-19T22:06:00.000-07:00

Waiting for contact.
Excitement building inside.
Will the moment come?

Waiting no longer.
Breathlessly chanting "Oh God!"
Grin brightly like sun.

Flushed

2006-05-19T22:01:00.000-07:00

Face flushed rosy with blood hot from exertion
Limbs trembling from rigorous motion
Unstoppable will, keep moving
Chanting "Oh god, I can't"
Must go on

Then

Breeze picks up
Drying sweat collecting on the burning skin
Clouds cover the unforgiving sun
Shade as welcome as lovers arms
A momentary release