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Breakfast

Updated: Jul 25, 2018


1920s Era Nude Ziegfield Follies Girl - Adrienne Ames


My heart is racing,

Cheeks red

—the tattle tales of my turn-on.


I sat down with a purple sweater on.

And heard you whisper to take it off.

You always want me naked.

The moment my mind gallops forth with a stubborn display

You pull the reins with a firm and soft certainty…

“Trust me, I know best.”


My lips are tingling,

My flushed cheek bones are abuzz.

You always have something up your slip

but I can't see in the dark.


I can hear my breath,

Short and shallow.

You whisper…

“I’m deeper than that.”


I’m restless,

wavering on the fence post of faith.


I have questions.

Your patience agrees to speak the slimmed down truth.

So we talk.

Me still naked,

You dressed up to the nines in pearls

And flowing velvet.


As you circle,

your royal robes and pearls trail behind, tracking your body language

with a sense of loyalty.

You catch my gazing eyes wondering how you trained them.

“With love."


You slide melodies in my head every morning...

“I relish hearing you sing.”


You touch me without using hands...

“So do you.”


I want to get on my knees...

“I prefer a more active devotion.”


What if I can’t?

“You already are.”


What if they think I’m too distant?

“You’re in a different world.”


You notice my sadness.

I want a good coddle,

But you don’t oblige.

— Space is needed for a choice to land.


What do you want for breakfast?

“It’s still dark out.”


We both agree to answer in the morning.