It’s been jazz all evening. The skies changed and the tempo stayed the same. Deep melodies playing from a third story apartment with the balcony doors wide open. I guess I’m tryna erase a few memories tonight. Do you remember that movie Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind? Certain scenes replay themselves and I can’t help but think maybe they were really on to something. I hate the way you preoccupy my daily thoughts. How I think of softer ways to tell you my desires. It’s terrible when we can’t get what we want, don’t you think?
Because I alone am not able to replicate your abilities nor your performance, I am left in agony tonight. Why do you give so much when we’re engaged? Is there something that the lips are forbidden to say? Must I continue to read what’s written against my thighs? I want to be nothing more than simply yours. Why can’t you see this? I’ll halt on another journey of pointless words with you this evening, I am a lover but I am no fool. I should have called this morning but what good would that be if I’m still alone at night?
My lover, I am tormented. Come save me.
Photographer: Michel Perez
I just need to stop. Un-learn the desire to want, to want for more. Detaching from the notion that the sweat accumulating between sheets somehow correlates to the intensity of more than lust. We are no more than our selfishness. No more than the flesh we wear. We are no more my sweet, sweet lover.
It’s warm tonight. Bare feet against the heated pavement. I love watching the sunset from the third floor. Nothing but a t-shirt that barely covers my breast and cheeky boy shorts on this evening. Maybe a few stars joining in on this show. I feel good. I feel full. I feel sexy again. And it’s on nights like this I’m convinced I need to get away from you.
But I remember those lips. They feel so good. So soft.
And I’m stuck.
I wanna taste you again. Does this ever end?
Perfectly polished rose gold glitter nails against the erected darkened flesh is, without a doubt, something to marvel at. Reflecting candlelight from around the room, the skin dances in delight. Soft colors of pink,blue, hints of yellow created by the flickering light cascading downward to where true desire lies. The position of hunger sets heavily on tender lips. It’s devouring, the sensation of wetness and warmth combining to produce the elixir of passion. What lies in a name during these moments you ask? Power, my dear, power.
model: Eliana Oritz – photography: Miguel Pena – styling: Clau Rojas – hair & makeup: George Romero – art director: Juliet Vasquez
Compliments to the chef.
I’m normally very mindful of my dining etiquette. I attended etiquette class every Saturday, extensively. No elbows on the table, small bites and so forth. Very prim. Very proper. Very ladylike. Poised and delicately appealing while dining I must remain. Back straight, impeccable posture and legs crossed with hands folded gently. I still appear the same way but with different manners that you request, sir. Slight cure of the spine due to a tilted head with soft hands sliding in an upward down motion. I’ve always known how to speak life into a man while on my knees. You crave the visuals of me satisfied. No gently dabbing the corners of the mouth after serving me. A mouthful overflowing with you. Do I make you proud, sir? Complimenting the chef as I savor every inch of my meal. No need to worry about my hair because you so politely hold it back for me. I love the demands to swallow. I was never much into see-food but it creates such a throbbing sensation within you to see the seasonings on the tip of my tongue. I relish the taste on every corner of my palette. Treating you like a finely aged merlot, the flavor is rich and potent. Oh, how I enjoy your excitement. Dining with you is an experience.
Fresh soil feels like silk between fingers. The richness against the flesh, did you know how many nutrients are in fresh soil? The minerals, I mean, soil from the earth. What we use to create life. Where we plant seeds and nurture the ground. On hands and knees, we speak through different languages, through different tongues. We allow nature to just be itself. Watching and waiting, in patience. There’s beauty in creation. What a gift given to become the artist of our lives.