Poetry: Under the Moon.

By Monica C. Voskamp

 

His hands found my throat,

Slowly they curved

Around it’s pillar

Softly he held me,

Right there.

 

I felt the strength in his hands

Fingers clasped round

My neck.

I felt his strength,

His power,

His discipline,

His care to not hurt,

But handle me

Strong.

 

He let his strength

Speak not it’s force

But made a place

Of resting for me.

 

This was new to me.

Both a turn on,

And a relief.

 

I relaxed.

I smiled softly while

His lips found mine.

We played our own melody

Under those midnight stars.

 

He sang so sweet,

His love pressed against me.

I closed my eyes

And lingered,

I lingered long.

 

I couldn’t resist,

I wouldn’t resist,

Such sweetness imprinting me.

 

Touches of wonder,

Caresses of longing,

Desires finally

Expressed, expressing.

 

His delight,

My muse.

The man under the moon

Held me close.

 

And in those moments

We forgot.

We forgot the world.

We forgot the worries.

We forgot the stress.

And found solace,

Found each other

Under the moon.

 

We found relief,

In each other’s welcoming.

We found warmth

For our souls.

We found comfort being two

Instead of just one

Under the moon.

 

Our souls blended.

It’s lone torture ending.

We soothed each other

With inner healing.

We calmed the voices outside

By quieting

Each other.

 

Dream of me, moonlight man.

Dream of me tonight,

And remember your hands

Upon my pillar.

Remember the warmth of myself

Embracing you.

Remember my slow,

Gentle strokes on your skin.

Remember my smile.

Remember me.

 

Remember the night

We shared with each other,

Remember the frigid winter air

We breathed warm.

Just you and me,

Under the moon.

 

Remember me,

As I remember you.

Strong, caring, sweet,

An exhale of relief

A inhale of belonging.

Belonging even for a night

Together,

Under the moon.

Always believe. Always hope. Always love. ❤

 

*Photo credit: Photo by Kyle Johnson on Unsplash

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