Her
Life without blood and tears would be pointless. Nothing to care for, days spent searching for
that something, that anything, to fill in that hole in your heart made for protection; the
opportunity to feel the virtues of being someones savior, protector, lover, friend. I found my
life, my blood, my tears, in the wide eyes of Her. Blood and tears would exit my body in any
notion of harm to my Her. Her skipped breaths are my life support, breaths I survive upon
richly. I hear her heart sing songs of love, and feel it pulsate beats of fear, for she is as
optimistic as the day before, fearing what the day may bring, but lives through it when the
sun raises with joy and no regrets. Her laughter shakes my very soul with a sense of
blessing, feeling blessed that I am the presence of such beauty. She is my will to do better,
to learn more, talk less, listen more. The batting of her eyes sets off hurricane winds, with
the strength of her being. But as strong as my Her may be, she is softer than anything this
world can create. Her hands are of silk and warm milk, her lips are as full as they want to be,
bouncing the softest of kisses of love when we separate. Her tongue tastes as sweet as sugar
itself, cool and comforting to mine. Her hips fit my hands so well, I never want to let go. Her
flower is one of the softest, most intriguing body parts of my Her. Both sides are equally as
soft as the other, too smooth to grasp but tempting enough to make me try. This is one part
that can't fit in my hands, but still I try anyway. Her breasts are as golden as a lions mane.
Grasping my eyes when exposed. A perfect slope to the chestnut breasts are colored nipples
that seem to highlight these mounds. They are as moody as Her, feeling velvet one week,
bold and daring the next. They are the warmest sensation my lips and tongue has ever felt,
hardening with every touch of my lips and tongue.
She is my blood, she is my tears. Everything I would live and die for, she is my Her.
Copyright © Luke Michel | Year Posted 2009
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