Tag Archives: lovers

Behind closed doors ~

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She sat in the corner of that darkened room long after he’d gone; wine flowed and the candle flickered, shadows matching their rhythm danced wildly across the walls. If she breathed deeply his scent filled her senses, closed her eyes and felt his hungry touch; words poured forth, steady as tears that fell, she conjured all night and still he did not come.

That’s when she knew, love was done.

©2014 jillterry | jillterry.com

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Somewhere in the Night

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Light fades with flickering flames
Balmy breeze wafts through the trees
Pleasant shivers blanket the flesh
Akin to receiving a lover’s kiss

The heady scent of gardens perfume
Wraps round making her swoon
Leaves a warmth inside her heart
As Cheshire Moon smiles upon this night

And with the rise of the morning sun
That moon does softly pale
Yet the feeling lingers inside her heart
With desirous thoughts that ever remain

©2013 jillterry | jillterry.com


From the Ether

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Inspiring regularly
Teaching effortlessly
Whether known or not
Deepening my sense
Of awareness

From turbulent grey
To brilliant blue
Connecting and shifting
My insight and mood

Needing nothing
Wanting even less
Resonating in every form
A constant underlying hum

Understanding rebirth
Our code of existence
Death a mere part
Of the universal process

Cathartic epiphanies
Philosophy and beat
Eternal awareness
Physical release

A sage from the ether
Delivered by the gods
I knocked but once
And was bade entry

©2013 jillterry | jillterry.com


Illumination

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He rose from the depths of her unconscious mind, like smoke drifting from the unknown, wrapping himself around and penetrating her soul. “I feel you…I feel you”, she whispered inside; as dawns early light crept in, illuminating her senses, and softly he faded as morning’s mist, just as she reached to bring him to her.

©2013jillterry
jillterry.com


les amoureux

enmeshed

When the world around grows dark and quiet,
finally coming to rest in silence;
two souls come together,
intertwine and mesh with the night.
Those are the best hours.
Those are their hours . . .

©2013 jillterry
Jillterry.com


Master destroyer

I hit the create button, which pops open a bright new page, and sit staring at the blankness; eventually adjusting the screen, for my eyes are beginning to burn. The door is open adjacent to my desk and offers fresh warm air and the sounds of nature, stirring in the woods just a step away; woods that have offered me shelter, solace, comfort and fear; echoed my screams, absorbed my pain; standing ever so vigilant in my darkest hours, as pillars of strength, in the decades I’ve lived under their canopy; ancient woods that I have become so familiar, but have never considered my own; echoing now, with an occasional barking dog, and the high-pitched voice of a child, somewhere off in the distance. I close my eyes and absorb it all, willing my mind to be silent, so that I can slip away into nothingness; but the silence doesn’t come.

For new death has come knocking upon my door, returning an old friend I thought had become a stranger, leaving me with questions I wish not to ponder; while another, more personal, circles back around, turning ever farther my one true friend, into a stranger I no longer feel that I know; and I cannot help but wonder if perhaps Poe was correct, in all that we see is merely a dream within a dream.

The child is gone and the dream slips evermore with each day that passes; I open my eyes and remember them all. Moments shared fading to memories; the laughter, the pain, tears of fear, joy, and sorrow; all the promises made in vain, built on a foundation I believed could not be shaken. Breathing truth, feeling the hand inside me held, falling apart, going back; plunging the knife of light into the impenetrable darkness. Riding the storm, floating on faith; digging deep into old forgotten wounds; embracing, surrounding, as pain comes and is released to waiting, healing hands. Ecstasy, travesty, a vortex of chaos swirling out of control; complete fulfillment, and gut-wrenching emptiness; all encompassing, and at the core, just love. Now there’s…

faith no more
no certainty or knowing
trust or believing
nothing left to smile the heart
just a beating mass of scars
and a horribly sad
unforgettable truth

©2013 jill
jillterry.com


PAINTING PICTURES

Standing in the waiting line, minding no one’s business but her own, when a voice too familiar spoke out from behind her; “I used to have that all the time,” she heard him say; “It’s even better than it looks,” he finished with a chuckle; as her body tensed and her blood ran cold; knowing full well he wasn’t referring the pumpkin spice latte just put back on the menu.

She turned her head, glancing slowly over her shoulder; and there he stood in all his egocentric glory, with what appeared to be a new country club buddy; who looked her once over with eyes of a predator, having just identified his next meal.

She looked down at her phone, at what moments before she’d been lost in, before the unwanted, calculated interruption; slowly she grinned, taking two steps toward him; then standing center between them, she tore her gaze away, raised her head till her eyes met his, leaned in and softly said…

“I used to think yours was the best sex I ever had, even though you fumbled like a school boy, and never once did you bring me to climax.” She smiled as she looked back down at her phone, took a deep cleansing breath then exhaled the words, “Silly girl…”

Her eyes never once left the palm of her hand; her voice throaty, trembling at times, her thumb once caressed the screen in longing; and it seemed for a moment she spoke to no one but herself –

He knows the softness
The warmth
The feel of naked flesh

The helplessness
The beauty
The need
The sensitivity

All happening inside
Opening to his touch
He whispers deep
Hot on my neck

What he sees
What he wants
What’s coming next

He uses his fingers
His tongue
His breath

He touches
He plays
He makes me beg

And just as I
Reach for him
Ready to

Her words cut short, as the Barista called her name; she raised her voice in unison with her eyes, locking with his while noting his stunned expression, “Make it a Quint and hold the whip…”

© 2011 Jill Terry


Exquisite Wandering

Languidly she lingers
On the wave of desire
He secretly built
Within the walls
Of her heart

Outside the restraints
Of self inflicted bonds
Passion awakens
The slumbering Temptress

Holding a sense of wonder
Emerging from dark silence
In search of the one would satisfy
Her insatiable burning hunger

Witnessing this
Her final release
He takes all she gives in offering
Extricating their mutual pain

Loving her madly
Vast and freely
Penetrating her soul
Until she cries no more

©2010 Jill Terry


Free Willy

He had a strange
Fascination
With white silk
Stockings

Impressed
With no one
But himself

Obsessed
With his own
Death

Romanticizing
Fantasizing
Succeeding

Tightly drawn
Around his neck

How I wish
I hadn’t have
Left them


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