Hips swaying back and forth,
Methodically and seductively,
One foot replacing the other.
Slide and twist.

Humming soulful renditions,
Depicting a rendezvous.
No words,  “Shhhh.”
No movement,  a felt embrace.

This is where I meet her,
When I close my eyes.
Jonesin’ for a rendezvous.

Sharing a sunset over the beach.
A place outside of the world’s reach.
Clouds gorged on the evening horizon;
Showing fuscia-stained bellies,
Faceless, yet complete.
Touching me, way down, deep.

Like smooth is the thought;
How cool is my Comforter,
Resting my troubles on Her thighs.
This is where I meet her,
When I lay down to close my eyes.
Leaving the scent of her smile on my mind.
Holding me close whenever she leaves me behind.

Jonesin’ for a rendezvous.


by malakhai jones

Excerpt from Chapter 22:  Number 53

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    1. Well, it’s more like a scent and an image are the same thing – an imprint. I simply switched the two, to engage both senses with the writing. It forces the brain to have to sort it out when reading. 🙂 And then hopefully getting some satisfaction at the mental resolution of the two.

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