Purpose

© 2004 Sandra Jean-Pierre
Perhaps
I can find the meaning of my purpose
between your thighs

with the help of your sea-salt scent
and the centinal guardian at the doors
of your temple,

perhaps these timeless beacons of lust and fucking
will whisper secrets of my purpose to me.

Perhaps
I can find the meaning of my purpose
between your thighs
in the shameless way
that mindless
hugging and grabbing and sucking
can bring clarity
and when it is all said and done
and when I am all said and done
and when it is over

I can walk away knowing that
I kissed the face of God
between the heaven and hell
and Earth of your ethereally
human body.

Until then?
I have no bodyor feelings or wants
outside of finding you...

Face

© 2007 Sandra Jean-Pierre
I wrapped my legs around her waist, snaking my hands over her shoulders, down her rigid back. A sight we must have been - each in her own way, Goddess worship. She nosed my lips, not kissing them, meandering to my forehead before letting a primal moan climb from her throat. Her skin on mine, firey, clammy, cool. I clung closer, hoping that she, her essence, could quell the insurgency of my flesh.Throwing her head back, I devour her neck, resting my warm tongue on her rapid pulse, then sucking gently. She gasps, suprised maybe at her level of want or at my ability to meet it. I look deeply into her eyes, searching, imploring until I find the reason the universe created her.

"Oh...ohhhh..." Her lids close, eyes rolling back. Her precious rose colored lips quiver open. Coyly, I take the lower, savoring her tangy taste.

"MMmmm...:::gasp:::..." I cannot seem to find the air, that once gave me life, to be here, with her, like this.

Her hand cups the back of my head, running down my back, beneath my shirt. Arms to the ceiling, I am her hostage, as she frees my torso from my shirt, my bra. Before her, exposed. I looking down, wait. Shame? Wonder? Maybe I am afraid of the lengths my want of her will compel me to.

I look away, tears welling in my eyes. Images of my past love and loving protest in my mind. I want them erased, I want them silenced, yet they persist...

She holds my hand in hers, pulling me close. Her soft breast fills my palm. Instinctively, I run my thumb over her nipple - velvet. I bend in closer for a proper introduction and slide my mouth over her areola. I don't remember what day it is but I know that I want everyday with her, to be like my mouth was over her breast - close, warm, secure, loving. Here, like this, no lies existed, no untruth wrapped its cold fingers around my throat.

Old Friend

© 2003 Sandra Jean-Pierre

On the Sahara plain
we were tribesman
sharing stories of the hunt
beneath crooked-sparse
shade trees

maybe...

we were women

in South America
tending the men,
nursing the children,
feeding our families from the Earth
while sharing the sisterhoodof moon-cycles
infinitely capable of life - rebirth

maybe...
maybe
we were
evy-ivy over
I said east-west
I met my friend at the candy store
playmates
sharing Bazooka Joe bubble gum
and coca-cola
on mid-summer
Brooklyn sidewalk evenings
while smells of fried pork,
plantains, beans and rice
filled our lungs
in promise of an easy cool New York
kind of peaceful
night in a
busy pulsing never sleeping city
with the comfort that our worlds were separated
by thin apartment walls

maybe...
...maybe

We were fish
beneath the ocean deep
searching for ways
not to be parted from our sisters
and brothers
only to eventually
sink to our final fish repose
at the bottom of the great beyond

to be...
to be re-made
in the image of
moon and sun...
bathing the Sahara plain...

It is good to see you againold friend...
walk with me,
talk with me for a while...

Yes we can!

Promise

she loved me and
we'd be in love and
as things can happen eventually,
love was no longer enough

you see,
she loved me like my history and
i loved her like war

a deadly combination

i chose to mistake her tentative advances
as my mother's disappointment and
she chose to not see the sincerity
in my violent ignorance and fear tactics

go figure

so we literally loved each other to death,
to ambivalence,
to solitude

who would have thought that love truly doesn't conquer all?
in a sense, it did conquer us
my innocence,
a direct conflict with her insecurity,
left me constantly falling short
and instead of admission,
i pummeled her lands and took what she didn't freely give

and hindsight may be 20/20
but love is 50/50 on a GOOD day
but feels 80/20 on most

and now paths have crossed again
as roads sometimes do and
i am learning her all over again
but i've learned some things about myself as well

like love isn't what you tell it to be
but a fruition of what is when left to blossom

i learned that love is not just what you bring to the table
but what you are willing to go back and get because it is worth it

i promise to let you breathe your own air
if you promise to want my company
if you promise to offer me 100% at least once
i'll promise that you can trust my love

so this time i want to try something new
you try and love me like water
and i'll try to love you like food
and i promise to always be hungry