Passionate Death

It is times like this I wonder if the line is too blurry or my mind is filled with opiate, in between of trembling and dead calm, losing control and yet in such a firm grip.

Tell me, where do you want to land? Will you let go?

Land in a complete state that any extra is  too much. The waves become dead calm in a pool of serenity.

I feel your heart open, red, beating, bare for me to see. Tell me, what do you hold back?

There is always a veil between us except when your fire penetrates through and burns before it has time to form again.

Sometimes I swim in your pools. I feel the warm currents.

I effortlessly brush over your feet like summer breeze.

From my feet to my face I land with a kiss.

My breath has a way to climb your firm form. It agilely tests its territory without disturbing while senses the tensing and flexing.

Be careful, I am delicate but strong, not to be played with.

Your breath stimulates every hair, every goosebump as it delicately climbs along. Like a goddess with the power to leave the one they desire helpless.

Then we are bare, heart to heart, in our coffin bed. In the confinement of death ahead, there is no more to lose than ourselves. At what point will you let me go? As we spin together into galaxies of nothing and light.

You are always free my love! You are free from my lingering fingers tapping poetry with your heartstring.

I am not free. I can’t let go. You are everything I always wanted. I forsook my life to get lost in this whirlpool… blackhole…

Play me the song, the funeral song as I spend my final moments with you. Completing our love. One final dance. One final journey into the mysterious.

Oh how I lament over this forbidden encounter in the early mornings and let torturous thoughts drown me in denial.

I study your body, your beautiful feminine outline, so swelled and sharp, surrounded by tiny goose bumps. And your skin so smooth, two mounds that dip down, every muscle quivering. How my tongue explores...

When the veil slips, my being has a way to meet your every desire in obedience and passive eruption.

Lead me, tangle me in your web, bewitch me with your desolate desperation for conquer.

Then, I will conquer you. I will pull down your last covering. I will slip in to places unknown. I have many ways to satisfy.

I’ll plough your dew-soaked lake, deep and forceful while lay my hand below your head, dance my lips to yours like sweet poetry. Lilies in the valley fill my inbreath. I become lightheaded, intoxicated and lost in you.

My hands interlock above my head in surrender. My every expression fuels your vigour to go total abandon.

Scream for me! Tell me how you want it.

My aura intensifies before your staring hunger. Every fan of fire calls you to dwell deeper. Take me, take my life! Take me to places beyond death’s reach.

Nothing felt like this before. Tell me, are you ready to join for our dying climax?

Always ready for the virgin eruption, paving the way for orgasmic combustion.

Crimson fire fills my view. I was lost in the moment. I give away and let myself go fully in you. This is our final act.

My moans turn primal and my scream has no names…

Published by

Cassa Bassa

🇦🇺🇨🇳 inquisitive, observant, witty, a thinker, was a misfit child 😊

8 thoughts on “Passionate Death”

  1. That’s fantastic here: “my scream has no names…” Very sensual piece you created here with some masterful lines. This is excellent, too: “[…] I will pull down your last covering. I will slip in to places unknown.”


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