Closer in Dreams

I can feel your hands, fingerprint ridges
slide across tender skin. Musky, your scent
fills my nostrils, spins my world and ignites
those flames dormant from many nights alone.

Beneath a pile of blankets, I shiver
– not from the room’s chill but from heat
generated by each stroke you lavish
along the lines of thigh, belly and breast.

Your breath mingled with mine flavors our kiss;
no words pass between us, the unspoken
communicated in our shared rhythms
each parry and thrust countered with softness.

Pushed off the edge of wakeful, I begin
to drift closer in dreams – flush and sated.

~ Siobhan


Storm Shower

Windows, chilled by the storm outside, cloud up,
foggy from both shower and body heat.
The clear plastic curtain brushes against
bare flesh, whispering an invitation.

The sensation of hot running water
becomes his fingertips – they skim across
her shoulders, down her spine, to settle in
the gentle curve at the small of her back.

A slick of foam traces full hips. reaches
past her inner thigh, caresses her calf
on its way to her toes; she feels his hands
glide along this path. A spiral of heat –
unrelated to water temperature –

tilts her head back into the spray, eyes closed.



When he was little, life changed beyond his
control. If he could have, he would have changed
the outcome; however, he survived it.

When I watch him, listen to him, I know
somewhere inside he has not dealt with it
on all the levels; he becomes hyper

when it reaches the edge of awareness.
He pushes it away, more comfortable
with imagination than memory.

Each milestone brings new hurdles to scale,
old wounds open and must be tended to;
this one is no different, only now

it is up to her to calm his nerves, soothe
the pain, ease him back into life and love.


With the Moon

Her mind does not quiet down until late
in the evening when, wrapped in the darkness,
she allows the daylight to disappear,
leave her alone with imagination.

From the corners, shadow invades her space
bringing with it memories and quiet
contemplation of what is missing now
as opposed to what was missing back then.

Reminded of shared dreams and desires
faded, devotion that waned with the moon,
her search for passion is strengthened. She is
alive deep within, ready for release.

A whisper from the fan caresses her;
swallowed by sensation, she sleeps at last.

Bridge between Worlds

She stands in soft shadows, just out of reach,
sheltered by the golden branches – waiting.
Beyond the rushes and worn wooden planks,
shallows, running cold and clear, entice;
sunlight reflects, warming the rocks and stones,
slippery green moss welcomes the water
cools the peaceful setting soaked in daydreams.

She can’t see past the edge, lost in tall grass.
Imagination chooses a meadow;
a soft blanket of clover and flowers
on which to rest. Logic chooses a path
much steeper, treacherous to maneuver.

Both hope and curiosity move her
forward when caution brings hesitation.

The bridge between these worlds crosses a stream
neither is able to negotiate.

Words no longer suffice to close the gap.



Eyes Wide Open
Cool palms cup heated flesh, desire’s warmth
spiraling down her body. Familiar
tug of want pulls her hands to forbidden
pleasure – releases needs pent-up inside
for too long. She does not close her eyes now.
Once hidden, shuttered under lashes, she
allowed imagination to control
her visions, paint her partner’s picture.
She’s no longer afraid of memories,
wants to see her lover’s face, hear his voice.
It is no secret she craves life’s passions;
revels in the sensation – nakedness,
body pressed to body, becoming one;
eyes wide open, she is fascinated.

Lean Days and Lonely Nights

She lays, waits for his touch to reach through her
foggy memory – swallowed desire.
She misses the catch of breath, the small gasp
and sharp intake of oxygen before
a sigh of release escapes between them.
Exhaling into their kiss, lips parted,
she tastes the scent of him as he leaves her.

He misses the sound of her whispering;
graveled growl of passion when she wants him;
and her laughter, that deep-throated rumble
so rare in these lean days and lonely nights.
Eyes closed, he twists and turns. Entering her
in his imagination, he feels her
warmth, the acceptance he’s been waiting for.