*the Love Chronicles Revisited*

He was torn between many worlds and haunted by the dreams of alternating realities.

Seeing their lips, eyes and hair reminded him of sipping blended roots with Chai tea!

Remembering their smells brought him euphoria and a sharp surge of endorphins.

He rises to the occasion once falling into the memory of passion, oil, incense and divine coitus.

Every style she posses was different from the other lights. The other angels. The other sex Goddesses.

Remember a French darling from Paris with Senegalese descent. She said she was a model. I never argued. Through my ironical sign language I was able to communicate my desires without using words. A non English speaking marvel made love because she like humor, ascent and hubris for I spoke with my hands. Lost her for the next day she had to go back to Paris. I remember her last voice mail, 'Josephe boy what happened'?

My memories have no direct time line for my heart categorize every experience through my emotional clock that is outside of our Gregorian Calendar. My love for passion comes from what I call the Photosphere. Sexy dreams of romantic encounters that were not always erotic but very mosaic.

This mosaic collection of the sweet and sometimes hurtful embraces of beautiful women with colorful faces, brought me to a place where I could dream while awakened.

I know of women who can kiss your forehead and open your third eye.
Others can makes the caterpillar's of your hurt turn to the butterflie's in your stomach.

Many can hurt you based on their indecision.

Others have hair that resembles bouquet's of exotic edible flowers, that can be found in botanical gardens. Hair like a well rounded tree and skin that reflects of the sun to cause a sense of motion parallax when she 'walks on by'.

I know of a lady who smile is always my personal and breasts that are fertile enough to save a starving village.

Well rounded bottom that when arched or slightly bended can cause this heart to palpitate.

The warm kiss of a Yoni, the long stretch inside, the kiss on a perfect neck, feels like Christmas in the sky.

To those jiggle bells, no stare of Jezebel and love that grows forever. To my lady in Black, my lady in Red and my lady in White.

Once I close my eyes and go to sleep I blend into water and a silent night.


To you ladies in the water....... To be continued...........

by Josephe Buchanan

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