Emotional

Not all kisses are intended to elicit emotional or magical responses... But all kisses do exchange energy that affects your aura and that is magic!

Here's another 400 from SMOKE!

Are you super excited to read it?

Enjoy!

Kisses, m.

Emotional

I'm so very emotionally interwoven.

Mentally craving the unknown.

Wanting the connection of his kiss.

Magical, the energy of him dances in front of me.

Teasing me with a look. 

A smile.

Close enough to taste the smoke but he stops.

Running his fingers between my fingers.

Innocently whispering in my ear.

I can't stop looking in those eyes.

Electric.

I'm in heaven when he stares.

Comforted by them and longing for more.

It's too far when he's standing front of me.

But he's enjoying the wait.

Testing my patience that hangs by a breath.

A breathe that takes in his emotions.

Closer until that magical kiss misses

And doesn't connect.

He relishes in this game. 

Knowing that I do too.

We like to watch the other 

As we're circling inward.

Inward.

More intimate than ever we are face to face.

I'm touching him while the swallowing the smoke.

In his space, moving toward his face.

Climbing up his neck with my free fingers.

Trying to harness this connection.

Hold it steady.

Keep it safe. 

My hands harness him completely. 

But I want more.

Waiting. 

Letting him move in.

On the brink of ecstatic 

When he slides his arm around my back.

Pulling me closer.

Giving me another taste of his breathe.

Smoke. 

Smoke that leads the way of intention.

A promise of a kiss. 

Magical energy ready to be shared.

Vibrating beneath the skin my blood pumps fiercely, 

Fastly with passion.

The passion in electricity shocks.

And those shocking eyes send volts up my spine.

I signal for no words.

I could read his mind through his actions.

Breathe, touch and taste

Are showing me more than words.

Words are meaningless. 

Useless vowels can't compete with his hand caressing my face.

Lips tracing the skin on my neck 

As the smoke climbs up and up around us.

But there's only intention.

Anticipation of more.

Tension mounting in my grip.

But I don't concede.

I lean in to pull him closer.

Up close and personal but oh so far. 

I don't know my own patience

When I slide my fingers out of his and around his back.

I pull him nearer to me. 

Taste the smoke and kiss his cheek.

My tease causes a turn. 

He pulls me back

Kissing me hard.

I feel the magic as his heart beats against mine fast.

Without a thought he's become...

Emotional. 

After Dinner

Are you spent after dinner? If you're wondering the pieces from SMOKE are set in a different time period because so is the book... Can you guess which era? 

Here's another from SMOKE! Can you figure out how many characters there are? I've given you most of them! Everything I've been giving you is extra content... The book is already written.

Enjoy!

Kisses, m. 

After Dinner

After dinner.

I'm spent.

Wanting a cigarette.

They've all packed up.

I'm wasted away on the bed.

Thinking of sneaking a smoke.

It's been at least nine years since I smoked one.

Gaps of time and cocktails.

Babies and an affair with the neighbor's husband.

All evening it transpired.

The looks of love across the room.

A man that appears to be the same one I married. 

I love him.

Two beautiful children.

I'm so ashamed but I love him.

I don't know if it's love or boredom.

The thing that makes me want another.

My brain circles in wonder as Rich sends the neighbors away.

I think of his spare smokes in the back of the nightstand.

Cheap. quick. resolution.

A long cool drag.

He's still downstairs.

Lost on the past.

It's intersecting my future.

We're going to Paris.

Always what I want.

It's grown old.

Boring.

Like him always agreeing.

I think him screwing his secretary might be exciting.

I love him but it's routine.

I'd like him to come upstairs

And catch me.

Smoking.

Yell.

Get excited.

Turn him on with a switch.

Set his passion on fire.

Forget the kids

Grab me.

Kiss me.

Tell me how much I remind him of the bad girl who made him quit smoking.

Let my mind wander. 

Take in the smell of his shirts.

I want to tell him how the other touches me.

I want him to touch me that way.

Lonely housewife and she's hungry for her husband.

But here, he won't.

Won't climb those stairs passionately.

Won't hold me.

Won't touch me.

He'll kiss my forehead. 

Tell me how great I was.

Such a wonderful wife.

Disregard the smoke and new garters.

He's Spent. 

House a mess.

Tell me to take myself a rest.

After Dinner. 

Block

You don't get blocked in writing... You get motivated by life and use it! Here's another from SMOKE!

Enjoy!

Kisses, m.

Block.

The smoke twirls around the room.

My busted head hurts 

And I can't think straight.

Blocked up tight.

No inspiration.

There's no way she's coming round.

Angela I call her

But the dames' name is Gina.

Gina Reynolds.

Her old man has a car dealership.

She wants him dead.

I just want a story.

Damn writers never learn.

We get mixed up with the wrong birds and then get smoked.

Smoke. 

Around the room.

My editor tells me this is the last time I can miss deadline.

Or I'm dead.

Dead.

Dead and gone. 

Just like Angela's old man.

Except there's no chance of him coming back 

And there's only a chance I'm not marked.

A marked man with a story to tell.

Some men don't tell stories 

Especially the ones that don't breathe.

I'm breathing a lot slower than I used to.

Blocked up waiting for release.

Writing for my life. 

Planning for my demise.

Angela won't miss her old man but she might miss me.

But will she? 

I'm nobody she needs mucking up her life.

A beat writer that smokes too much and drinks too much.

Singing my blues I'm still thinking about my blocked up brain.

Another cigarette doesn't change that my hours are numbered. 

Wishing Angela were here in my arms kissing me

Singing to me

"Lover be still"

And still I am.

I swear I'm destined to scream 

While waiting impatiently

To see that sweet angel cross my doorstep 

And I know what I need to do to have her in my arms every day...

Break him.

Kill him.

End that pile of man she swore forever too

Killing...

Is the easiest of things to a writer.

Conspiring.

Deciding an alibi.

All I can do is take a drag because of this...

Block.

Recline

Smoke... A little about it? The series is written from multi-characters and it has a different structure than my previous work. And yes, this time I did not immerse myself in the process of creating characters. Typically developing characters beyond who I am... well I become them. So I didn't. The pieces are written in micro style and poetry. I'm not sure how it will be received except so far the reception has been positive. Only I do have to say to my favorite smokers... It is not a dark book or personal at all. There are lighter pieces instead of only dark. Yet I've mostly only given you the darkness. Here is another light one that is a 400 written from a male perspective. My apologies! Love & light! Be well! 

Enjoy!

Kisses, m.

Recline

She's open.

Wide open. 

Legs. 

Arms. 

Mouth. 

Eyes.

I'm closed.

Closed off. 

Hands tight. 

Neck tight. 

Chest tight.

Head pounding.

Mind closed.

Slammed shut. 

This time when I get home she wants it.

A piece of me. 

I can't even think straight when I see her.

Her lips spread part with a sigh of anticipation.

Quivering she lifts her lips out of a pout.

Long slender fingers wrapped around an old cigarette of mine. 

She doesn't smoke but it reminds her of how I taste.
Lips remain slightly parted as she slinks up out of the chair and over without her robe. 

Stupid man that I am, I've wasted the day actually thinking about work. 

All day she's been thinking about me. 

A slight shift in her hip against mine tells me I need to kiss her.
Tells me I need to kiss that sweet mouth back 

Movements remind me to slide my hands across her ass. 

I want to do more than kiss and touch her but my mind wants to spin. 

It's ahead of me. 

I'm already reclining in the chair with her hands on my belt. 

Smoking on my cheap cigarettes while she works on my waistline. 

Thinking of work. 

Quickly she pulls on my belt bringing me back to the present. 

Naked and blowing smoke in my face

She decides she can't wait any longer. 

Hot kiss quenches my parched mouth. 

Instinctively I grab her legs and pull her up closer.

Hot and smooth I can feel her skin vibrate beneath my touch.

Releasing my kiss she takes command. 

Dropping the smokes and putting them out with a shift of her heel she proceeds to

Take me by the hands.

She leads and pulls. 

No words are exchanged as she does what she wants with me.

I’m enjoying letting go.

Opening up to her.

I let her take over removing my shirt and pants gently. 

Rubbing my neck and back she massages away the pain. 

She desires my pleasure in this moment.

Precious creature isn't worried about getting anything in return.
Her mouth slinks downward and against my neckline. 

Her fingers reach up as she kisses my face.

Her breathing sounds are stimulating.

She continues to heal my wounded body with her movements.

Their gentleness guides me toward the chair.

Without saying a word she presses me downward into my favorite position and says... 

Recline. 

What I can tell you? I'm Happy!

It's all love with a hint of jealousy in the air these days along with the smoke. I personally love to see the love and ignore the jealousy of others! Love, it's amazing! Especially when it's the last person you thought would ever jump in. Lots and lots of blowing smoke. Smoke... why smoke. I couldn't tell you. In buddhism it is a very bad self-harm behavior... but yet I love a cuban cigar!

What I can tell you? I'm happy and I can tell you that none of the stories in SMOKE are about any one person in particular and they can't be. I am not doing this the same as my earlier work. Much like the 'D' series it is a dedication filled with pieces and parts of living moments, real and fiction. Nothing I wrote in the series was about 'D' per se and he was amazed and overjoyed how much I created after we parted.

So for Smoke... I simply stole a quirk, a really bad habit from someone for the idea of the series. Yes they upset me professionally and on a bit of the personal level too. It breaks your heart but... You see a lack of support from someone in your life or work isn't on the level but you forgive and move on. My favorite people and I are mutually supportive. When someone stabs me in the back I keep the knife so its needless to say I took the unkindness badly but instead of holding a grudge or seeking revenge I forgave then stole a quirk.  

So I've been in the biz for photo and writing work for a while now on the solo tip and it's a challenge. And yes 'Oh how the jealously' does persist.... I could never burn anyone personally or professionally with rumors, that would be blasphemy so kisses loves! Be kind to each other. I'm not jealous, I love to see other people succeed. And I'm overjoyed when others appreciate my work. It does not go unnoticed. 

Sorry I don't make a production or single some people out more than I already do. So sorry if I have overdone it. Tell me! :( I've typically got a good barometer on shy people since I am one. I really am. It's all bravado most days. Weird huh? So please know that I really get it! Oh please try to be gracious and appreciative, I try to be even though I'm shy too. Photogs love it when you love their photos. So please be kind and realize that it takes courage to share my work too. There are better artists than I. Ok?! Kisses! :) 

Here's a new one from SMOKE that I wrote at a writer's workshop a few weeks back... Best thing ever about workshop's or circles is actually meeting other writers. On this occasion I met new writers, mostly poets and a non-poet whose work I would like to read now but I think I'll bug one of my favorite Ken's for a link... Cause I'm certain I acted like a fool because "real" writers are the only one's that truly get the fiction thing along with the drinking like Hemingway thing. So I tend to get excited and fall on myself when I meet one and bond... Male or female makes no difference. It's awkward. Oh well... Such a spaz! Lol!

Enjoy!
Kisses, m.


Happy

Happiness is my heart. In a small moment I’m alone in a crowded room. Surrounded by the love and happiness of the souls around me. The warmth that fills my soul expands and contracts with my thoughts. The essence of the trees shifts with the wind.

Slowly the switch of the light changes the mood of crowd. A man flicks his cigarette and I’m lost in the sea. I can smell this morning in the puff of smoke that carries across the sea of faces. I can see his face in the dusk cascading off the white wall. His eyes smile. I wish this moment was the present. But it’s not. It’s a memory where I know he’s sitting across from me. I’m happy thinking of him. But I know I need to return to the present.

Presents are spilling out her bag as she walks up. I love the way she wears her hair in a bandana. The instant I see her messy curls spilling out and bouncing in the wind. I think of the hints of color in his hair, her black highlighted curls and I’m spinning backwards into his smile.  I’m involved in this self-centered thought where he’s watching me quietly. But he’s not here.

Here the warmth of the day surrounding me like a lover’s absent hug and I’m imagining the touch that matches his smile. Returning from my thoughts I watch a couple across the room giggling coo’s of tenderness.

Tenderness in their touch sends me aching into a memory anticipating what could come. I’m struggling for the present moment when all I can think of is the future and the past in my mind’s eye. When I stop to breathe I think of the electricity in those eyes.

Damn those electric eyes. 

I’m happy.