Eye Candy

Slim hips and broad shoulders, he leans against

the bricked wall, eyes shadowed behind glasses.

His crisp white shirt and blue jeans lend themselves

to his casual sexuality.

An ordinary man on a Paris

sidewalk, he is nothing special to me

or anyone I know, yet he provides

a glimpse of romance. Imagination

runs into dangerous territory

and I feel my body stir. Now I am

wishing for sunglasses to hide behind

so neither he nor anyone else can

see the lust loosened within, that coil

red hot and waiting for a lover’s touch.





I rolled over last night and thought
– for a second –
you were there.
I wanted you
to ease the knots from my shoulders,
rub my ankles and toes
as only you can.
Something about your touch
relaxes me
while it excites me.

I knew you
were not there
beside me;
just pillows
that no longer carry your scent
stacked for me to hold on to
when missing you becomes a little too much
more than I can handle.

I didn’t fall
back to sleep
right away.
You occupied that space
in my mind
and I allowed myself
to remember enough
to fall asleep again
a smile curving my lips
as if kissed
by you.



Strength of a Memory

Moments come and go when the ache for you
is so intense, I’m certain I will burst
into flame; the longing to caress you,
taste you, saturates me, my every pore;
my mouth waters at the thought of your mouth.

Strangely, my body does not remember
other hands and mouths, other intimate
partners with the strength of your memories –
perhaps their passion did not run as deep
for me – desire not as evident.

I wonder how long it will take for these
sensations to run their course, fade away
– parts of me (yes those) don’t want it to end;
others hope its soon for sanity’s sake.

~ Siobhan

Stained Memory

She stands before her mirror,
inspecting wrinkles,
lines and imperfections;
her image
once reflected in his eyes.

Hips have eased and settled,
offer a woman’s knowledge of life.
Breasts firm, not young yet full,
ache for a lover’s touch.

Hands skimming the curves between,
sliding over belly, across backside,
pulling her close.

No one can see
the flaws. She has none
(or so she’s been told)
beyond self-doubt.

As calendar pages perform back flips,
handstands and somersaults, leaping
from month to month
his words return
at midnight to
stain her memory.

I love you.



Morning Stretches

Stretched out on the carpet,
she reaches for                      release,
her muscles aching
– at once relaxed and tense.
Her body arches with memory of his touch.

Sliding from one position into the next,
she feels the throb of tendons, the draw
of ligaments along bone.
Move               and – then                 pause

Folding to balasana
she follows her thoughts, curled deep
inside, finds that holy place
created in the blur of intimacy
while all else falls away.

Passion’s kiss plays out behind closed eyes
and she breathes into relief.
free for the moment.


Obsession New Born

Breeze-ruffled grass whispers of the coming
full-moon; it shifts and sighs, waiting for her
to exhale in the calm before the storm.

Daylight dips in and out of growing clouds,
teases her with a glimmer of sunshine;
taunts her with possibility – darkness.

Thunder explodes its power overhead,
shattering silence, feeding her spirit,
escalating an obsession new born.

Electrified by the charged air, her skin
comes alive as under a lover’s touch;
fleeting, passionate, full of desire.

Memory serves her well as from beneath
the full moon, she expands into herself.

© Siobhan
June 7, 2009

Just Touching

Chill morning air steams her breath, still scented
with midnight kisses and mingling with
the flavor of him. Whisker burns graze cheeks;
hair a finger-tangled mess and lips bruised,
she smiles a shared desire; secrets
dance in her belly at the memory
of touching – just touching – and more touching…
with eyes, mouth, and tongue; a soft palm and thumb
along jaw-line and slender collarbone.

The lost art of intimacy, re-born
in the discovery of mysteries
below the surface, waits to be revealed
between would-be-lovers – newly strangers.
Each caress separates space from time.

June 5, 2009