Dance of Von Teese

img_2384I was a shape

that waits

to be carved

with a sculptor’s knowing hands,

emerging from alabaster white

into sharp relief,

bright scandalous technicolor,

cherries in the snow.

 

This is who I really am.

 

My breasts adorned with crystals,

my hips overflowing

from the curvaceous narrowing of my waist

into abundant fans of feminine plushness,

punctuated by a skimpy g-string of jewels;

I am everything

that I was never supposed to be:

a woman with power.

 

Glamour was a spell,

sensuality a witches brew.

I became a fashionable bitch

who walked the catwalk of her own shadow;

femme fatale.

 

I embraced the dark goddess

who lived inside me.

By the heat of my careful alchemy,

lines blurred between fantasy and reality,

dream and life.

Transformed,

I danced across the stage of life,

big energy, woman writ large,

a high octane Sorceress

soaring like a star

through the heavens.

Hibiscus Dreams

img_7676

It was

a fever state,

hot and delirious;

being in love.

 

Love was a febrile hallucination, a trick of the mind.

Lurid colors, vivid imagery, rich emotion,

desperate beauty;

a haunting vision

that can’t be unseen.

 

Our bodies were tumid fruit

that ripened

in the sultriness

of love’s summer.

We gorged ourselves on textures and tastes;

the enchanting sweetness of lust,

the decorous tartness

of impatient longing.

The sumptuous spice

of passionate encounters.

The bitter sourness of ugly hurts,

dark momentsĀ that crystallized

into insidious weeds

and took root in the space between us;

thatĀ gave the kiss of death

to our hibiscus dreams.

 

In the cool blue light

of nighttime,

I feel inside myself

for you,

caressing the empty spaces

where your memory lies;

teasing at the edges of loss,

touching the pleasure that remains.

 

I blossom endlessly with wanting,

love’s eternal flower,

red petaled,

bright and pretty,

subtly fragrant.

I am one

who dreams of you:

the bee

that stung me.