I did not come to this altar for forgiveness.

I came to be undone and pieced back together better.

Your skin - the only sanctuary I have ever believed in, a breathless, shadowed quiet.

Where beneath the arched vault of my own heavy ribs I honor you.

And as I kneel before you, the cold stone of the outside world melts away into the fever of my holy dark.

I undo your zipper.

I drink in the very sight of you, slide my hand down and around, the heat of your broad size, alive in my palm, like a psalm.

It’s dark, candles flicker

your taste lingers, as I slide my tongue down.

Then wrap my mouth around.

I draw in hard and fast breaths, a gasp as you harden to my touch.

I want to fuck.

To feverishly forsake you long and labored and final and before God.

Let him hold witness for our prayer colliding with courage and all that’s erotic.

My hands press together, not in quiet supplication, but in the greedy, desperate anticipation of the grace that pours from my lips.

Deep humility.

Raw need.

Earnest pleading.

Now as I rise and we’re eye to eye,

Let your mouth meet my throat,

make me float, drift in the sweet pleasure of lips over my breasts,

then down to my naval, over my hips, attention so tender your taste burns as you breathe out the smoldering heat of ash and embers and days pass.

Let’s be reincarnated ………

come again in the aftermath of the flood that came to desolate and repopulate.

As the cathedral candles burn down to nothing.

Here, the liturgy is written in this sudden, sharp shift in air,

now sparse and spread as though an ancient, wordless language only my mouth knows how to interpret.

I trace the curving spine of your back like heavy beads on a silver rosary,

counting every fractured sigh as a sacred mystery.

Revealed beneath my tongue and mouth, my head, exactly where your crack meets your back at the gentle hollow.

I run my fingers into the spaces and I enjoy the faceless form, creases and contours.

There is no sermon here but the frantic pulse beating at your throat, erratic and wild, preaching a ruthless gospel of your damp skin and my violently tangled hair.

I drink from you now like consecrated wine, savored, a heavy, intoxicating communion that burns to my soul, leaving me starving, always, for just one more taste of you and divine ruin.

I suck, I sup, I drink, I look and take you in the view of you scorching my eyes.

Forgive me, for I am about to sin with exquisite, deliberate intention. I want you.

I want you across the alter of my desire.

The hymns that we sing in the dark are entirely of our flesh, echoing off the walls of this private, locked chapel, where we wrestle and grapple, and please and repeat.

See me repent as I ravish you.

I want to consume you.

Let’s pray now.

We rise in tempo, a frantic choir of friction and heat, until the heavens themselves threaten to shatter above us like stained glass smashed. Showered in coloured light euphoric.

You command me to bow, and I gladly surrender every ounce of my pride to the soft, commanding pressure of your request.

You grate, I ache, friction that serves and works to bind as we grind and grow. Only you and I know what we truly consecrate.

Every breathless moan is a hallelujah, dragged forcefully from the deepest, aching hollows of my chest, a fervent testimony to the only heaven I have ever known, sexual abandon.

In sensuality I am free

When the rapture finally breaks us, leaving us trembling and newly baptized in our silent aftermath, I do not ask for salvation.

I wish to be forever condemned to this beautiful, ruinous worship, it is this exact eternity I seek.

Let the world have its quiet churches and its distant, silent gods.

I will take this fevered devotion, this sacred, unending ritual, and whisper a final, heaving-with-hope amen to you and I, our moments will live on, but we are gone, dissolving in the decadence of what was, my body still directly resting against your burning skin.

May you forever remember who loved you like this first.

May we here, may we now indulge heavens pleasures and sleep blissfully. Sin free.

Graciously.

Damien: Italic Bold  Vianne: Regular 

the ending is 
the beginning 
bringing a forefront
a reset, explore some
new territory
a brand new terrain
we can share the story
and stand through the rains

clouds break, 
habits make, 
now in the tides' wake, 
I witness, 
what's gone before, 
as I roar 
wild and die
reinvention is divination; 
let's go again and…

Read more

Either end of the couch, phones before our faces like shields

but there’s a tether

I drown in the intimacy of your not words

a sea of sofa that cradles us like bodies floating on a salty dead sea of silence

you, your world

your face expressive in fragmented parts a slightly raised eyebrow, that gives away your heart.

I notice how smooth and line-less your for…

Read more

Author’s Note

This poem was born out of clarity and long-overdue liberation. It’s easy to mistake our internal noise the fears, rigid mental models, self-imposed limits for reality itself. We forget that the map in our heads isn’t the actual territory waiting outside. Not always. We make too much meaning. Blur the picture with our own lens tinted by pain…

Read more

Fear whispers in my ear

so quietly manipulative I barely even hear

‘Sayonara’

I’m looking down the barrel of a gun

and the brightest sun falls across my face

frozen in terrorizing warmth

Read more

Hourglass

Curves

Read more

You are embers 
that burn beneath the surface 
a slow glow gathering strength in the shadows
step out of the dark 
fall into my open arms
like a balm to my misty breath

I call you to me
hunger for me 
breathe out into the wind
and feed my blaze
pulling us closer into the light

I'll expose every inch of you
expose me too
every touch leaves a trail of s…

Read more

You let me 
nothing has ever made me more aroused or wanting 
than the freedom
to slow down without being told too 
to show up without it being expected 
to open without a condition 

that’s hot 
hot as I feel you harden under my hand, 
under my gaze, 
my hazy words, 
my past hurts, 
my lost worlds 

lost lives 
grieved through lust 
maybe 
as you find …

Read more

You penetrated 
like dynamite
cracked me open 
once inside
not void 
hollow lined 
with quartz
vibrant 
I'm set free
my secrets 
of you 
plus me 
shattered 

iridescent

I’m fractured,
split
magnificent
unveiled
raw
newly-opened
adored 

I call to thee 
earthly

exposed
poured into 
exterior sharp-edged 
but soft with you 
composed 
and tender too

as …

Read more

Read more

My first-ever overseas holiday was highly anticipated and a huge deal. I was eleven years old. Sixteen of us (my parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins) took a trip to the Greek island of Corfu. It would kickstart a love affair with travel that has influenced my entire life.

We stayed in the resort of Kavos roughly 35 years ago, before it beca…

Read more

breeze

soft like dusting flour

pine trees lean

I long to drink your sapphire tide

you, like a blaze of blue wave

mediterranean

breathing every languid hour

into the aliveness I feel from your embrace

I pull your quiet coastline open

let me

spread me wider

let me

raise your tide

not forever just for now

let me inside

I’ll pulse with you

gaze…

Read more

I open, 

my curves undulating like dunes 

these waves of flesh and bone

grown in the wild outdoors 

never happier than breathing deep

fresh forest air, drinking it in, 

moss and heathers make for soft rest 

the refuge of trees 

whisper to me 

I feel erotic here, 

the somber sound is colossal 

and I almost drown in it 

the whirring of wind 

that whi…

Read more

Read more

Authors note: 
To anyone reading this: I hope you feel the heat, but more than that, I hope you feel the freedom. This piece came out of a place of deep, unshakeable self-ownership, the kind that only comes after you've raised  babies, weathered storms, and decided you’re done shrinking for anyone else's comfort. It’s messy, sensory, and unapologeticall…

Read more

The space between us 

isn’t distance 

it’s a fuse 

an interval

a truce

something deliberate 

intentioned 

———-

not hunger 

more appetite 

———-

the way dry wood 

cries for a match

air circulates

but gets soaked up

drawn in 

transformation

enkindled 

alchemy 

——————

your cool and slow 

holding back 

a heat I already know 

not tease …

Read more

Vianne - His POV: “she was there at every function. I couldn’t stop staring at her. And I hoped before any function, that she would be there.”

Read more

Vianne: Left Soft Bound: Right

Sharp supple, and sanguine

the colour of blood and ruddy skin

you emanate danger

in a way that calls me in

asks me to be brave

to endure the depths of you

enjoy it too

whispers like seed, shouts like flame

a fire comes at the end of your fruit

as you birth, bloom and root into me,

harvest

like resurrection

I rise for you

com…

Read more