In the peak of a moment
– at the very point of desirous recognition –
one exists in the present
only to fade into the stillness of
hungry impression;
to fade into the memory
of what might never be again.
Temptation: one’s new master of control.
© Tamara Natividad | pisceanesque.com | Written 26 June, 2015
Sticky
and sweet
the fingers
of love
that travel down
in tingles:
a liquid storm
in nothing but
a rush of fire
Wet
and discrete
the lips of heaven
that smother
and capture with haste;
a halo so wide
that not even
lust
could quickly retire
© Tamara Natividad | pisceanesque.com | Written 26 June, 2015
Opinions
are an
opiate onion:
they sting
they burn
but they taste
oh so
delicious
on your tongue
when you speak them
© Tamara Natividad | pisceanesque.com | Written 17 June, 2015
Temptation won’t wait
for the purpose of its life
is to softly tease
© Tamara Natividad | pisceanesque.com | Written 8 June, 2015
© Tamara Natividad | pisceanesque.com | Written 8 June, 2015
© Tamara Natividad | pisceanesque.com | Written 8 June, 2015
Time, again, bleeds through:
my skin, the landmark of pain
Weeping wounds, naked
© Tamara Natividad | pisceanesque.com | Written 6 June, 2015
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