I'm on a two hour flight
Window seat
Middle seat vacant.
A no mans land between a woman,
unknown to me at the isle,
Her head absorbed in a paperback
Later she arises, goes to the toilet.
The book lies, its pages spread open,
On the vacant, warm seat.
Tempted by curiosity
My fingers nimbly
Flip it over to read the title,
Fifty Shades of Grey.
She returns, unaware
I'd discovered her,guilty pleasure.
Takes up where she'd left off,
Devouring Fifty Shades of Grey.
And not a word did we exchange
Neither on,take off
Nor during short spasms of,
Turbulent vibrations.
Nor on the bumpy landing.
However, all the while
I was tempted to ask,
' On a scale of one to ten,
how aroused have you been
For the duration of this pleasant flight?'
There’s a fire that needs no flame,
A silent spark that calls your name,
A glance that lingers, hearts that race,
Two souls drawn closer into space.
The world grows quiet, time stands still,
As anticipation bends the will.
A whispered word, a trembling sigh,
A thousand feelings passing by.
It’s in the warmth of being near,
The kind of closeness that makes everything disappear.
No words are needed, none are planned,
Just the electricity of a gentle hand.
Passion isn't merely heat or desire,
It’s two hearts feeding the same fire.
It’s trust, connection, and letting go,
A language only two can know.
And then the heart gives way completely—
No walls remain, no distance between me.
For one breathtaking moment, nothing matters
But knowing you are here, and I am seen.
The noise of the world falls far away,
And every guarded feeling finds its place.
What began as a spark becomes something true—
A profound, trembling certainty of you.
And when the moment fades away,
Its echo lingers into day—
Not merely as a memory of the night,
But as a feeling that still carries light.
By Shawn Muñoz
my ...
fingers are
tactile moonbeams …
and like that porcelain light
I let them dance upon you, bare -
tiptoe across your shy
places with a
delicate (but deliberate)
adoration ...
many, the times they've made
this dermal sojourn
yet each is as if the first -
softer, sweeter, more
sure that the journey is as savory
as it’s delicious end …
each inch, it's own mystery
here-and-there your flesh jumps and
rises as you coo and sigh -
little bumps follow that spread
to the rest of you
like moonlite spattering the sea …
but your sea is mine -
an ocean of tender integument
beneath my touch …
much deeper
and darker
warmer …
and where I
long to …
drown.
~ POETRY AGAINST POVERTY ~
( photographic art created copyright-free by the author with Gemini AI / Meta AI software )
Shameless boys and cigarette butts
Burnt my porcelain skin and singed my heart
Spent years betting on losing horses
Just to feel some dopamine
But oh, young Brenton, he had a charm
A voice of musk and a scent of vanilla
Strapped me onto long motorcycle rides
Oh, dear God, what'll he do next?
His caress, rebellion type of prowess
It nearly strained my lungs to death
The light of day may be ugly and stained
But with him, I'm in a long and deepened sleep...
It's as if I'm a corpse with movement
The way he numbs my labyrinth mind
Testing my senses of separation
Icy cold to heart, yet sizzling to touch
Before nothing bothered me,me,
I walked under the bright sun,
I waited until it went down
to find that spark
from a rising star;
I loved to play my guitar!
Julie waited for me,
smelling a wild rose
she picked on the way
to our hiding place;
on those summer's nights,
my warm arms wrapped around her:
it was the libido of sensual Romeo.
We laughed, we smiled,
not counting hours,
oh, it's the first night
I let these tears
flow so quickly;
nothing around me
is joyful and pretty,
because I lied
to the cutest girl alive.
O dark night
send dazzling moonbeams
to excite my libido
of sensual Romeo.
even the angry moonlight hides;
do I have to beg, scream and cry,
turn around and go home,
make up a ridiculous alibi
that's not needed anymore?
It's the first night
I'm crying in desperation,
without that heart
driving me wild;
it' s the first night
I'm ignored and pushed aside
to excite my libido
of sensual Romeo.
There once was a young masseuse called Mandy,
Whose clients confessed she was quite handy.
But when a 'big nob' named Jock,
Caused her to faint from her shock,
She was only revived with a brandy,
9/ 8/ 2026.
Did we really dabble daily?
You must be hyper-delirious!
Is it the posit in my eyes;
the recent rosy surprises?
Honeymooners might silkily slide
and slip sleepily into such dreams,
remembered. Still
such thoughts bring to mind
those early reclines of young love.
I can picture you in your red threads,
unveiling of slim
and vainglorious muscles,
the hustle of prowess.
Our steamy windows,
the firsts, the thirsts,
the pinpoint of lusty eyes,
the thrust of vigor.
Do we dabble daily
in linking love,
hand in hand;
the saxophone hums.
Together we slide
through the love tunnel
in the dark,
dangerously drifting
toward the eternal waterfall;
the climax.
Billy’s known to be fast on his feet,
but the girls who’ve sat in the next seat
at the movies all know
that his tootsies are slow
when compared to his hands. They’re so fleet.
I had heard about the legend of her lips,
so, at the sight of vermillion moonlight,
shimmering on turquoise ripples at twilight,
my soul ventured, craving the sighs of her sips.
Fate led towards a path of wooden shutters,
amidst the silence, silken whispers enticed,
upon her vision, all speech was sacrificed.
My heart danced like velvet butterfly flutters.
Her lips resembled two petals yearning for rain,
with an innocent blush resting on their tips,
curved liked sacred, unwritten poetic scripts,
I surrendered my muse for her kiss to drain.
They seemed to tremble, waiting to be explored.
An unspoken allurement composed through her eyes,
where she veiled a threshold of nectarous cries,
like dawn, we merged as the moon and sun adored.
In neroli mist we melted like molten gold,
lost volcanic spirits spilling in lava lust.
Her wildfire swept my senses like a spiced gust,
as hummingbirds, hummed about secrets untold.
There was a sinful sweetness in her caress.
In her sanctum, I forgot the essence of 'me,'
as her taste turned a blank page into poetry.
A rendezvous, which ylang ink cannot confess.
tie me to your tongue
as you melt into me.
ever so softly, my sweet,
whisper my name as you linger
in my loving embrace;
feel the warmth of my breath on your face.
chest to chest, can you feel
my heartbeats against yours as we
surge through the pulse
of passion's flickering flame?
tie me to your tongue
as you melt into me.
come closer to me, i implore thee,
let's stay the night under the jealous moon.
as your hungry eyes meet mine,
let me taste heaven in your kiss.
yes, my beloved, kiss me to resurrect
a dormant desire that used to rage
like a hurricane. let our hearts
be carefree as twilight grows feet to run.
tie me to your tongue
as you melt into me.
Come to me and take the dive,
give into the rush
I'll show you an unforgettable high.
I'll take you there like no other,
just undress me with those eyes.
Devoted to your pleasure,
once you're mine
I'll make you feel alive.
Author’s Note:
This sonnet is the sequel to "Ere She Trembled", as directed by the most esteemed Lustrous Lin; henceforth ventured by a poor votary of the Muse, who dared but follow the path her imagination had first ordained.
—The Jewel of the Crown—
When midnight loosed silver from her hair,
I stole where nectar’d dreams veiled all her breath;
She turn’d, and drew me through the perfumed air,
Till warmth made pale the hoary frost of death.
Her throat, where alabaster bloom’d, was warm;
Beneath my hand, her pulse began to sing;
She met mine eyes, and hush’d the gathering storm,
Whilst moonlight trembled on each secret thing.
Then breath to breath, where waking woo’d the dream,
Our silence melted, honey-sweet and deep;
The stars grew languid in their argent gleam,
And night forgot her ancient right to sleep.
Thou art the jewel sleeping in my crown;
I’d lose the world before I laid thee down.
I live in three realms;
Constrained by three
dimensions of space.
With my spirit I touch
the supernatural.
With my soul I connect
the intellectual
and emotions
And with my body's
senses
I touch the natural.
With these three realms,
I remain grounded on
this earth.
(Written on the 8th of December, 2015)
— Of Wind, Longing, and the Privilege of Touch—
O, that I were the mild vespertine air,
that steals through jasmine when the day is done,
and, fragrance-laden, wander'd everywhere
to find her face before the sinking sun;
I'd pass where rain lies dark upon the stone,
and draw the tellurian breath of earth,
then lose myself where roses bloom alone
and breathe their secret back to fragrant birth;
I'd find the hollow sleeping by her cheek,
where one loose filament trembles in the air,
and, being less than silence, scarcely speak,
yet feel her pulse make all the heavens bare;
And should her lips breathe softly, “Who hath been?”—
I'd be the wind... and love her all unseen.
Come closer—
close enough that the air between us
forgets where it belongs.
I want to feel your warmth
answer mine,
your heartbeat finding its rhythm
against the wild beat in my chest.
No distance.
No careful words.
Just skin near skin,
breath tangled with breath,
and that dangerous silence
that happens when two bodies
already know what they want.
Your presence is a slow fire,
a pull I feel everywhere—
shoulder to shoulder,
chest to chest,
my body leaning into yours
like it has been waiting
for this moment all night.
Hold me until the room disappears.
Until the only language left
is the way we move closer,
again and again,
as if gravity itself
has chosen us.
Tonight,
let our bodies speak
in the deep, trembling language
of heat, hunger,
and wanting to be
as close as possible.
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