Tag Archives: sex

A Tragic Destitution


She wants to fall into him,
To lose herself in the feel of his lips,
In his scent,
In the way his stubble scrapes across her skin when he tastes her.

She wants to be surrounded by him,
cocooned in his warmth,
On ever plain of their them-ness.

She wants to be taken by him,
made to feel more essential that air,
To know that she alone inspires the wanton that stoked the fire in his eyes.
the muse of his moans, his Persephone.

She wants to know him,
To be that kind of intimate it is so easy to be in the absence of love.

She wants to be wanted,
To encompass and enfold him within herself,
Want to metamorphose into this new being,
By being herself within him, while he occupies her.

She want to be owned.
Unmistakably, uninhibitedly claimed,
In word and action in a way that is…

It’s a tragic destitution to want so much.

To be so without center, insufficient, alone.

But oh what poetry to find that merging,
To have faith so richly rewarded,
To be so treasured.

She simply wants all of him.


Paint passion


Paint her face,

A portrait of pleasure,

Brush lips,

Slowly against her,

Spreading colour across closed eyelids,

Each finger stroke,

Leaving impressions on the image of her,

Make her yours,

Infuse meaning with each tender passing,

Of flesh over flesh,

And something more intertwined,

Paint her,

A portrait of passion,

To endure all ages,

On the canvas of your mind.

Between you, me, and these sheets.


We’ll be the death of each other,

You and me sinking lips,

Sucking life from our viens in turn,

Wary suspicious kind of loving,

Do I have you? Do you get me?


Let me taste you,

Feel you,

Touch you,

Want you,

In that unexpected moment,

When we forget to know each other so deeply,

When pain falls asleep and leaves us,

Laughing sweetly,

Let me have you,

Kiss you,

Comfort you,

Enjoy you,

Between you and me and these sheets,

Who’s to know?

What are our shades of broken,

They don’t matter in the now,

Let me ravage you,

Possess you,

Sate you,

Deflate your illusions in me,

Don your armor and conquer or rescue

I don’t care which as long as it’s you,

I see when sensation subsides,

And I need to swim in something impulsive,

We did together.


On top,


Any  surface available at the time,

Only reason and rhyme being want,

Because we want,

I savor you,

Love you,

Hate you,

Hold you near me,

In that impromptu conversation

Between you, me and these sheets.

©Michelle Toussaint. All Rights Reserved.

Le Petite Mort

Mind rape

A Smack to the ass

And she barrels out of sleep swinging

‘Cause that’s what you do when

Rudely awakened by that kind of pain

But he’s already got her

Arms stretched over her head

Both wrists locked in his hands

Nibbling at her ribcage

She’ll die a few times before it’s over

And she fights

Not for escape or revenge or whatever

But to get closer

Her sleep addled brain

Doing a sharp shift from defensive to nymphomaniac

On his path of nibble he finds a nipple

And she squirms

Straining against her restraints to tangle her fingers in his hair

And make him stop, or come closer, or….

Then he’s with her…deeply

And she dies immediately from the shock of it

He rides her out

Then he just rides

Busy lips nip sharply

Salacious and demanding

She dies again

But he is the one captured

His hips ground to hers

By the strength of her coiled legs

A guttural command forces through the haze

And she releases him

But the damage is done

And the ride intensifies

And he blazes a trail towards another killing

And she is lost again

In a haze of stinging sensation

A dizzying cycle of death and resurrection

How many? Who’s to tell?

As wave after wave obliterate coherence

And he whispers in here ear

His sermon of possession

As she jabbers

His praises, his condemnation,

A plea that it never end

But as all intense things must

This too comes to a closing

As he frees himself inside her

White hot scalding neon pleasure

And they die together

And rest

©Michelle Toussaint 2015. All Rights Reserved.

Now Taking A Lover


Now Taking a Lover, by Michelle Toussaint, is a collection of poetry which chronicles a woman’s journey from spurned lover, to finding love. With a few diversions to a lover or two.

Now Available on Amazon. FREE with Kindle Unlimited.

Mind Rape

fluffy loving

He speaks and she’s transfixed.

The lint and tone of his voice,

Deep resonating, vibrating something deep inside her

Transfixed, listening to the music of his accented rhetoric,

She stays and listens .

Even as her mind screams denial ,

But before she can acknowledge the threat

He is touching her,

And his smooth large hands are doing things,

That send thoughts skittering across the room,

Like so much discarded ammunition for the weapon that was her witt.

She’s lost in the sensation as soft moist lips envelope her mouth,

Robbing her of her breath,

And her will to get away.

Deep kisses like a mini invasion of her whole self,

She is helpless, tied up with bonds made of words,

And sedated by drugs made of friction and heat.

And before it even registers fully to her intoxicated brain he is inside he,r

Beneath her, around her.

His hands on her hips

Guiding the glide of bodies colliding

Spectacularly smashing into ecstasy

And in the moment before

That small still before gale force winds rip apart her conscious mind,

Her instincts scream at her.

“Get out now, don’t let him, don’t take him, stop”

But she is powerless, to revolt

Before the tide of her own body’s betrayal .

Shattering above him, around him, for him .

Crumpling down like a marionette for him

And for her trouble he smiles and sets her down gently

Before he turns away


His power cemented in her mind, on her core, on her lips,

As surely as she reeks of his essence among his silk sheets.

Warm Bodies

Warm body

I am the warm body in your bed

The servant of your longings

The handmaiden of your relief

Greet me with hard hands

Kneading needy flesh

So wanton

Speak to me in the language

Of pounding hips and hearts

Overtaken by the spell of exertion

Find bliss in my gentle curves and pungent borrows

Borrow into me

And find euphoria

I require not the communion of lips on lips

There is no time for this

Tenderness does not reside here

Just hard riding towards

The embrace of sweetest pain

And blissful nothingness

Passion only for sensation

Found in the core of my woman flesh

I give you this

I am the warm body in your bed

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