Total eclipse of the heart she paints her bedroom peach, suckable pastel halo ambience...
black gives a cocoonish feeling there's no rival from colors she knows how to focus she's within my urgent reach...
feathers the corners of her bedroom walls with fawn brown, soft edging like her maribou feather tickling my inner thigh, her passionate spirit is in flight...
her bedroom is private media for disseminating dreams and fantasies I see her in a different light...
a place where she keeps silk and leather, hanging barometer to check the pressure of our sexual weather...
her well-chosen music plays in my heart, the vanilla-scented air moves us closer than farther apart...
when I'm looking through the camera's viewfinder, I'm thinking about this picture...
it looks more like I expected her and I to look...
we've come full circle from the total eclipse of the heart to full moon...
So sensual, smooth, like the skin at the base of the spine that's sometimes ticklish, and sometimes makes you stretch with delight.
Sonny G
Reviewed by Jerry Bolton (Reader)
Reviewed on July 4, 2006
Sensuous and lustful. Intimate with a voyeuristic bent. Words written like chewable panties, eatable. A poem for the bold and the beautiful. Passion consumed.
During the 1960's a young soldier struggles with basic training, a bully sergeant and his own inner demons. A tale of struggle, redemption and survival.
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Sonny G