snow

Laying within the warm abundance of blankets, I look out the window from the pitch darkness of our room into a scene of quiet chaos. A beautiful chaos of snow flakes bursting through a velvety black sky. I know that it must be very cold out there for snow to form and blow through the air but in here with you, that chilling feeling is unimaginable. The fire is dying but the warmth between us will sustain us through the night. I love to watch the snowflakes when they are flying at night. Snow falling in the day is beautiful but at night- mystical. I am reliving the walk we had. Bundled in winter clothing we walked together, our boots crunching the ground beneath us. Nighttime snow walks are eerily wonderful, so quiet that the sound of a zipper tightening up is loud. We kissed out there too, the contrast between our warm lips and cold cheeks was sweet. The little snow crystals are crashing gently onto our noses. Now here we are looking at those crystals from a safer, warmer vantage point, snuggled together. I will fall asleep on your chest while the tiny beads pile up out side, burying us in our haven.

leaving

Gingerly, reluctantly, I withdraw from your sleepy embrace and leave your bed. I leave behind the warmth and I quietly endeavor to dress myself and leave your love, only temporarily. I will be back but now in this morning darkness I am sad. I leave this place of love and passion and the cold air hits my face, snow flakes are falling in the early morning dimness. The road opens for me to travel, snow drops delicately falling on my windshield. I think of you still in that place where we lay. Pressing my finger tips to my nose, I can still smell your scent.  I hear your whispers in my ears still. Your words are swirling through my mind. Songs pass through my lips. I drive on, I have left behind my heart and soul but soon I will be back to reclaim them. Perhaps when you are moving through your day, moving through our separation you come across my heart in little places here and there. Perhaps you see my soul in spaces no one else can see. That is why I leave them, for you so that you will not miss me too much. Soon, very soon I will come back for them. Then all will be right. These separations are temporary disturbances. The opposite of leaving is returning. Leaving only strengthens my desire for you. Leaving allows me to dream of you. The days will shorten and the return journey will begin. The cycle continues.

Absence diminishes little passions and increases great ones, as a wind extinguishes candles and fans a fire.
Francois de La Rochefoucauld

bed

This structure we call bed, what a marvelous place it is. Refuge, sanctuary, love nest, family space, solitude, library, recovery, bliss. Slipping between the sheets, blankets flowing over my body, wrapping me in warmth, pillow beneath my head, what rapture. Then you enter and we entwine, cocooned within the covers. I love the softness of the mattress and how it conforms to my curves, no pressure on my bones. Bed means contentment. Beautiful things come from the bed, romance, intimacy love and even sometimes the sweetest result of love, a tiny infant in your arms.

consume

It's really more like a thunderstorm when you fall. A rumble starts from beneath your feet and it jumps to your chest. Now your heart beats a bit faster and you breathe deeper. You want to sit closer, stay longer. Another human begins to consume you, your thoughts, your feelings, completely consume you. And you allow it, willingly, you desire to be consumed, body and soul by this person. Storms pour water around you and it feels like a light spring shower. Take me. Your love is now in my pores, in my blood.

Soft Blackness

I like to lay next to you long after you are asleep and listen to you breathe and softly touch your arm or your shoulder. The room is so dark, just squares of gray on the walls where the moon light seeps in through the windows.  I cannot see where you are, just feel you and hear you. Quietly I lay thinking of the ways you touch me not just physically but how you touch my heart, how you trickle into my thoughts. Serene warmth flows through me, I savor this time. You move and cradle me within your body, skin to skin. Filled with your affection I settle into sleep, the sleep of love.

pleasant disturbance

A disturbance is moving through my atmosphere. Electric current travels through my body, one current running on top of my skin, faintly tickling my flesh. Another current is running wildly through the inside of me, bursting here and there, converging in my own slice of heaven. Your warm breath fans the fire while your moisture cools it. Feelings are so intense my chest tries to expand to let in more oxygen, so I gasp for air, air that I will need to sustain my strength, or should I say weakness, for you are my weakness and I am made willing weaker by your tongue.

The confluence of heat and dew spark, I shiver and throb and thrill and writhe, I am out of control and depend on you for mercy and fulfillment. Slowly, gently, the flow of current ebbs, just a warm full feeling is left, the feeling of contentment.

Paint

Colors will blend on the canvas very soon. Preparation is necessary first. Some artist can work quickly but the fine artist is one who is slow and thoughtful. Two tubes of paint waiting to be transformed, right now they are alone and waiting to be partnered into a picture of passion. Grumbacher Thio Violet, Green Deep. Flake White and Indigo Black will make a small appearance also.

A puddle of Violet is released on the pallet and a large pond of white lands beside it. Green Deep is next to be squeezed on to the pallet. With a brush in hand the artist rolls her brush in white and allows a healthy portion to hitch a ride then she moves to Thio Violet and lightly brushes the purple onto the white. Poised over the canvas she thinks about where to start the painting, should it be a bold swath across diagonally or perhaps slowly blend up. Her hand is drawn to the bottom and she spreads her brush slowly across the bottom of the canvas, left to right. A wave of white flows across the bottom and streaks of violet run through it. With deft brushes the artist caresses the two paints to blend, white enveloping the purple, cradling it, lifting it, sometimes softening the purple into a light lilac and sometimes leaving the purple vibrant on its own.

As Thio Violet becomes accustomed to the white sea, the artist takes her brush away, wipes it on a soft rag. Taking another generous portion of white she adds a dip of green to the brush and brings the two back to the canvas. Studying the canvas she places her brush in the upper right portion, hesitates but presses the brush on the canvas. She is committed now, the only place for the brush to go is gliding across the canvas to the opposite corner.

Thio Violet sees Green Deep sliding down the surface as though falling from a cloud. Her purple thoughts reach for, long to be near Green. Sensing her need the artist uses another brush to join the two colors together. Streaks of Green now collide with stripes of Violet. Both colors are floating in the White sea on delicate waves. Sometimes Green is soft next to a bold Violet but then sometimes Green is mellow and gentle showing a soft shade of Green.

To give depth to drama unfolding the artist gently dabs lines of Ivory Black in the sea, lightly touching Violet and Green Deep here and around. Brush strokes are made, more Green and Violet are blended and soon the painting is complete. The artist leans back and is satisfied with her efforts.

My Promise

There will be a day in the very near future when you will feel one hundred percent better.
There will be a time very soon when this will be behind you and you will be stronger.
There will be a moment when you will be in me.
I will feel all of you deep within me and you will feel me beneath you, pressing into your heart,
I will let go, you will let go, and you will know that after your long journey you are finally home.

If Snape Fell In Love

I must admit that I will never get Severus to splash in puddles with me. He isn't that kind of man. Which is precisely why I love him! Oops did I say that? Yes, and he said it to me to night! I have felt in my heart that he does but was hoping he would admit it to me and he finally did. I am the happiest which at Hogworts, no, in the world.

I had asked him to look at a few plants because they did not appear to be healthy, I thought perhaps he might a suggestion of a potion. While I was correcting papers he came to my office, quietly poked his head through my open door and asked if he may speak with me.

I know some of the others think it is a bit unnerving, that he seems to just quietly appear out of nowhere but I think it is very polite of him actually. If you have nothing to hide why should it matter who comes upon you?

While he was examining the plant, I thought to adjust the light for him to see it better. Of course I stumbled and brushed against him. He grabbed my arm to steady me but kept holding onto me even after I was stable. I look in those hypnotic dark eyes and couldn't look away. He was staring at me, his eyes were moving around my features, stopping to pause for a few seconds on each ones. As his eyes fell on my lips (the ones I was biting I must admit) he bent over and kissed my lips. He held my arm still in his hand and kept his lips against mine, delicately warm, softly moving on my lips so that I had to respond softly back. In my head I was awash in a soft fog, my eyes closed tightly, hoping the moment would never end. He brought his other arm around me and held me tight, placing soft short kisses all over my face, around my ears and then he completely embraced me, returning his lips to mine and we kissed tenderly, sometimes our lips gently parting. After awhile he pulled away from me placed his hand behind his back and said, “I believe... I ….love you, Miss Bushnell. I hope that I have not done anything imprudent, to harm our.... relationship”

cat in catnip

I am rolling around in you. Fragrance wafts around me and deep into my conscious and I giggle. There is so much of you, your vast plane so pleasing to my senses. Gliding over you, my skin touching yours, hearing your pulse, tasting your saltiness, seeing your tanned flesh, the scent that is only yours. I want to wallow in you without end. Not until something happens, I want to wallow in you boundlessly, uninhibitedly, irrationally, blissfully. Gently gliding my paws up and padding across your chest, bringing my lips a hair's breathe from yours, then flitting my tongue on them. This is just the beginning, soon my lips will have tasted you everywhere with my hands alongside, gently caressing you. I am the cat and you are indubitably my weakness.