Surrender

Semi-Erotic Poetry

Rain scattered glass and the sanctuary of the familiar. 

I run a firm hand over my neck as I sit at the traffic lights and take a deep breath in. A gentle scent part chemical part leather seats, soothes me. 

The radio sings of you. Every lyric a wave to ride like lovers on a small boat. 

I embrace the long sweet drive like a retreat as the engine hums in reverence. 

And I’m mindful, lurching towards you and not away from. You’re magnetic. I’m uncertain. Questioning the strange limbo of our in-between. 

An irresistible polarity that becomes palpable the second I’m close.

The reach.  the withdraw. 

Right now, my mind pulsing , driven inward.  

contracting. 
cascading introversion. 
———————

I wait.

Not impatient. Not still either.

Just present in the way  macallen scotch makes time feel slightly less urgent, as if everything important has already agreed to arrive when it is ready.

The glass warms in my hand. Smoke lingers where it wants to. The room holds its breath without asking permission.

Outside, rain breaks itself apart against glass and road, turning distance into something almost close enough to touch.

I don’t need to see you to know you’re coming.

There is a shift in the air that belongs to you alone. Not noise. Not thought. Something quieter than both.

Like recognition before form.

I take a slow sip and let it sit where it should.

You are still not here.

But you already are.

———

The winding roads to the house exaggerate the wind.

It whips me into my own storm as it howls the bends.

Noise thot reverberates through veins, my blood boils viscous but not with rage, 
with passion of equal velocity. 

I quiver with anticipation 

Something ungrounded is rising as I feel the cold air sting my cheeks flush. 

I stride towards you, I know the words will stick in my throat, but the truth will thrive in my eyes.

That you’ll know it, see my seeing 

and without volume be met by my heart's ache, in the quiet unspoken. 

I can’t often find the words the way touch works. 

A bypass of brain to the body . 

Not thought but felt. 

That feeling…..

—————

I feel the road before you arrive.

Not in distance. In pressure.

The way the air changes when something certain is moving through it without doubt.

You call it wind.

But it isn’t outside you.

It’s what happens when everything unspoken in you starts to move faster than language can hold.

I don’t need your words when you arrive.

I will see what your body already decided long before your mouth catches up.

That is what you are describing without saying it.

The bypass.

Not thought to body.

Truth to recognition.

And when you step into the space between us, there will be no search left in it.

Only the moment you stop becoming uncertain.

And realise you were already understood.

__________

The door creaked open long before my arm reached the bell.

Your crisp white linen shirt flashed up before your face did 

blinded not by how much my eyes consumed but by how they remained laser focussed 

on you 

I softened within myself but didn’t shrink.  

I held, like a poker hand played diligently. 

Not frozen but not performing either 

just like you knew I would - waiting 

not uncertain, steel-cold cool 

sure of my next move, 

quiet pacing 

and it was all in the neck as it unravelled, the way I lifted my gaze to meet yours, 

biting my bottom lip, a reflex 

I noticed my shoulder blades slide down away from my ears, 

I felt my fear descend the gears 

and my courage escalate 

I placed my lips to yours and threw arms up, entwined fingers  into your hair, 

I gripped it in great handfuls 

I hard kissed you as if every secret i’d ever kept needed to be told now and with importance 

I breathed fire into your life 

my own sex burning and ripe 

calling to you 

to take me inside 

——

The kiss stole the air from me.

Hot mouth.  

Cold hands.  

Rain still clinging to your skin while your body pressed into mine like you’d already crossed the line long before you reached my door.

You kissed me with hunger.  

Not sweetness.  

Not caution.

Your hands gripped at my neck, my jaw, pulling me closer, and I felt the tremble beneath your confidence the second I held you against me.

And there it was.

That ache.  

That unbearable wanting neither of us had managed to outrun.

My hand slid down your spine slowly, feeling you arch into me as your breathing lost rhythm against my mouth.

You tasted like longing finally given permission.

Every second sharpened.

The heat between us.  

The grip of your thighs.  

The way your lips parted when my mouth moved against your neck.

And when you whispered for me to take you inside, it wasn’t the house you meant.

It was the last guarded part of you.

So I kissed you deeper.

And let the door close behind us.