Submitting

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Rooted underneath pleasantries
Slowly being let in
Knowing what it means
As I sit beneath his limbs
Nestled in closely
My cheek upon his skin
My imagination not willing
To allow me control again
May turning warmer
As afternoons take me within
His presence is trust
Brought to me by the wind

Ease

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There’s a feeling that exists
History has proven love lives
Like a breath of fresh air
We acknowledge when it arrives
Our bodies begin to relax, usually
Become water, when it’s right
A penetration of care
Flowing over our skin
Perfect temperature
Healing as it descends
Further on
Past our eyes
Which see doubt
Beyond our hearts
That feel protective
Over our core
Already aching
For more, of the same
Truth told, we crave love
Not only our selves
But our minds
A saturation combined with ease
Allows our imagination to thrive
In communion, as well
A perfection, pointless to hide
Streams through us, honestly
Sustainable serenity, alive

Yearning

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This morning’s view didn’t whisper love,
There weren’t romantic signals, in colorful hues,
Left there to guide me,
While pushing through routine.
It was my mind’s song from yesterdays past,
Yes, one by Otis Redding.
Honestly, the song surprised me,
Reminded my broken heart of you,
Yet, encouraged my beliefs regarding true love,
And left me yearning in quiet blue.