You’re Worth It

If I tell you you’re worth it; know I mean every word of it.

If I tell you you’re worth it; know I have crossed every mountain and sailed every sea making sure there is not a woman on this earth that is comparable to you.

If I tell you you’re worth it, it means I need you, I want you and I crave you. Not for everything you are but for everything you have the potential to be because your greatness is only going to grow.

You are worth my words, you are worth my soul, you are worth the energy and love that seeps from my pores every time I see you. Every time our bodies are within inches of each other.

You are the novel I can’t finish because every word has to be perfect.

You are the drink that’s too strong and with every sip you go to my head and dull my senses.

You are worth every ounce of my soul.

You are my life.

 

 

Sex Is Always important: the Person You’re Having It With Just Might Not Be

feeling I wrote an article a while back entitled “There’s No Such Thing As Meaningless Sex,” and my logic was every time we give ourselves to someone we give a piece of ourselves to them. Whether it’s mentally, spiritually, emotionally or just physically. I thought it was a pretty straight forward piece but people actually disagreed with me in the comments. I’m not a man that believes in “I’m right, leave me alone.” If you have a differing opinion, I’d like to hear it and understand it.

For the most part it was a lot of people that were trying to belittle the spiritual aspect. I’m not going to argue with those people but there were also people that simply believe they can have sex with no emotional attachment. I can’t relate to that but who was I to tell them otherwise? Not to mention I can understand it.

Then there was one woman that sort of summed everything up in one breath, in one sentence. “Sex is always important, the person you’re having it with just might not be.” In that moment I realized that my logic wasn’t wrong but I hadn’t accounted for one very important, very particular thing. Good sex and good people are in one category and bad sex and people that don’t move you or in another. I still believe that sex on any level should be intimate but I can’t attach my beliefs to society as a whole. There are some women you look forward to holding after it’s over and some who you hand a paper towel and look to make sure she didn’t leave her panties. Some men get breakfast and looks of admiration; some men get looks of, “why did I waste you on my body count?”

In a perfect world which is where some of my writing takes place all of us are created equal. Not literally but just individually. That’s not right and I know it isn’t right but I’m still trying to figure out how to incorporate core values with what’s happening in the real world. I’m working on that as a writer. I never want my words to come off as judgmental but I also don’t want to write what people want to hear. Sex is addictive and a part of addictions that’s scary is sometimes you get addicted to the wrong person and wrong situation.

~ Demez F. White

The Language of Tears

The Language of Tears

They say eyes are the windows to our soul

How does our soul speak? With tears

 

We cry when we’re happy, when we’re sad

We cry when the rush of orgasms flood our senses

We cry when the pain of a cut is unbearable  

 

They say it’s unmanly to cry but I feel it’s the opposite

It’s unmanly to hold tears hostage

How can you truly enjoy the pleasure, the pain, the passion if you

Never cry?

 

Tears of love

Tears of fear

Tears of passion

 

Watching her pack a bag, knowing she’ll never cum at my touch again

Lying on the couch and feeling a hair clip she left behind

Taking a shower and seeing her soap

The tears mingling flooding my eyes, cleansing my soul

 

Not knowing if he’ll live throughout the night

My family crying and nervous

My tears aren’t out of fear

My tears aren’t out of hurt

The tears that flowed from my eyes were that of relief

Relief that he will be in pain no more.

 

Playing in her hair, the panties fitting her like a glove

Kissing her neck, my hands finding nirvana

With a flick of my tongue she shivers, the tears fall

 

~ Demez F. White