sex, darkness, + explicit erotic

poems by Elisabeth Heffernan

 

 

sex:

I always loved the idea of two bodies crashing and dying,
reborn,
becoming a wild whole instead of two stars orbiting,
a universe of truth and feeling.
I didn't know how rough and unfeeling and tangled it could be.
Also how addictive, and crazy, it would make me.
I was called so many whore-ibble names,
because I learned to touch and crave.
I loved the way you'd slide against my skin,
and how I drummed and pumped with need.
I loved the way your tongue would cleverly part me,
and how I’d writhe with ecstasy.
I loved to travel down your stomach with butterfly kisses,
and swallow with all my night when you emptied roughly into me
- the power, the bliss.
I loved to rise above you,
take you and become a golden goddess,
who'd take all of your everything.
I was the power and
it was all for me.
My long legs would trap you,
and you'd drive so fiercely into me,
that I broke the windows and mirror
with my screams.
But the problem was,
Always,
that my heart got trapped with us in the sheets.
It would beat with blood and memories
and then cupid’s wings would hover over me.
You'd find the feathers on your stomach,
on your feet,
and wonder at where they could have come from,
never suspecting it was me.
And I learned to love.
And I learned to fuck.
But I never learned how you could take it apart so easily

 

 

darkness

We only met in the darkest of places,
in the shadows and the corners,
in the places where demons and fae lurked in quiet hiding.
We grappled in our sweat and dreams,
nothing more than sex and sweets,
hiding from the sun's sudden face.
We were creatures of the murky occult,
raising ghosts and voodoo queens
with every sensual cry of release.
You would bend me over in the quiet,
and whisper in my ear about the many ways you'd make me scream.
You would use those clever fingers,
and that impure tongue on my sudonic skin,
swollen and near dripping with heat.
Growling in your throat,
a wolf in sheep’s clothing,
tearing at my hair,
and painting marks with your claws in red.
And I came again.
And again.
And again.
Because that darkness was a drug I learned to crave.
Day by day by day...

 

 

explicit erotic:

I don't want you to say a word telling me I'm pretty and my face is Venus and my body is sex.
I don't want you to write me poetry about your feelings, and I don't want your candles and scattered roses on the sheet.
I want you to pull my legs apart and dig your nails into my flesh.
I want you to cover me with your mouth and taste the salty sweetness.
I want you to bite me at the curve of my throat while I purr with a lioness ease.
I want you to cuff my wrists in your hands and tell me how you're my master, I'm your slave.
I want you to take me so hard-fast-rough that you leave purple blooming bruises on my thighs, breasts and stomach.
I want to hear you say the dirty awful things you'll do to me, your tongue so serpentine.  
I want your voice to catch when you tell me you're so near to release, and watch the wicked glint in my eyes as I arch up and take you even more deep!
And the groan you emit your gaze never leaving me.
I guess what I'm saying is I want you to...
Fuck
Fuck
Fuck
Fucking
  Take
      Me.

 

 

Elisabeth Heffernan is known to her friends as a “faerie girl” with a vivid imagination. She has been published in the She Will Speak: Gender Based Violence anthology, a ThoughtCatalog where she tends to write about relationships, love, and her life experiences, and is currently working on a memoir. You can catch her curled up with her dog reading poetry books and romance novels, or chewing her pen as she attempt to write prose. She loves the fantastical, animals, tattoos - and, of course, writing!

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