the skin of a beautiful man.

skin scribbles...

the skin of a beautiful man

scribbles on the skin of a beautiful man – words and pictures in ink where once fingers lingered. skin scribbles that etch memory and portend a journey. skin scribbles that narrate a story…

i draw a tree on my lover’s back. a tree with roots deep in the past. a tree with strong boughs, branching outwards and all-embracing, like my lover’s arms. a tree rich with foliage – foliage of dreams and visions that whisper of a future. a tree, young and green, in need of nurturing and protection yet seemingly ancient in its wisdom. a tree laden with lovers’ words, and pictures of what was, what is and what is yet to come. a tree of life…

the life of star-crossed lovers. a tree of love… a love like no other.

a tree, like an ancient map, drawn on the skin of a beautiful man. a map stolen from the stars, a destiny, to nurture and protect. the tree is a map. it holds promises like the secrets of the stars themselves, ancient and burning. a tree, a map, an eye… my lover’s eyes. and in those eyes i see a fire and i feel its burn. i hear his unspoken words and promises. in his eyes, i see what was, what is and flashes of what will be.

skin scribbles that unfold a story. a story that tells the tale of a beautiful collision of two lives, two lovers and their journey from inside out. a journey mapped out on the skin like fingerprints. a journey mapped out in the stars from where they were born. the skin of a beautiful man bares a map that leads me home.

his strength, like a tree, stoic and unbending. the past, what came before, lies deep in the heart; deep in the cradle of life; deep in the sex like my Northern Star. it has always been there, guiding me to his arms, guiding me home where i feel safe in the shelter of this tree, of his love. this is home. this is where i want to be.

and these words… words from the past that shape the future are like shadows; constant and following, like footprints. these words, these shadows, flicker and glow like flames from his fire. the fire in his eyes. these shadows are testament to love, to strength, to absolution.

his arms, like branches of this tree, like flames of this fire, like the two arms of Orion are open and all-encompassing. i ache for these arms. i feel homesick for this space. his arms… honest arms – they could not be more open. arms that nurture and protect. arms outstretched across the sky, like Orion, constant and there. here. they guide me home. i ache for these arms, arms that feel like home from past until completion. arms laden with love.

love, in unspoken words and pictures on the skin; words and visions in his eyes mirrored back at me. words and pictures scribbled on the skin of this beautiful man. unspoken words screamed aloud in the quietest of moments; tender words, as silent as thought, screamed aloud in the most intimate place where only we exist. nothing exists beyond the space between our mouths. yet a space so infinite, like a distant corner of the sky. a haven, a cocoon… another world. a place where new life is born. a place that nurtures and protects this new love in all its emotion and wonder. this place, mapped out on the skin, his skin. this map, his skin, his arms, the stars, his eyes, these flames and shadows, these word, these fingerprints – they lead me to this haven, this home. and it feels like home.

i embrace the tree, and the man, and feel the energy swell and grow and enter me, consume me and spread beneath my skin. i feel it flow through me like new blood. and there is blood, and tears. the tree bleeds and weeps. tears of joy and the sadness of this constant craving. this wanting to hold on tight to each moment, each word, each breath shared. a constant craving for his skin and the unfolding of this journey. an excitement. a wanting. a desperate wanting, not wanting this moment to end and yet constantly craving the next breath shared. a wanting to hold on tight to every word spoken, every thought screamed aloud, every expression traced on the skin with telepathic fingers. a wanting to hold onto those moments where words are insignificant. a wanting to return home, feeling homesick for that moment and those arms. the arms of this tree.

this tree needs nurturing and protection. this new love, this new life needs nurturing and protection.

oh these words! they fall in abundance. words fall upon the skin with every touch. words hang in the air like origami cranes – unfolded and folded; like secrets, hushed words of love and whispered thoughts. i hear his thoughts. i see his words. i taste his promises.

like fallen leaves from a tree, dreams rustle beneath our feet and carpet a path; an unknown journey; do we know where we are going? a colourful carpeted journey, a road home. do we need a map?

this map, drawn on the skin of this beautiful man is a gentle reflection; a tale of two lovers, quietly voiced like his impassioned sighs. this map will unfold; this tree will grow; this tale will tell itself. as sure as the stars will continue to collapse and collide and be reborn unto the sky that we share we continue to make love, we continue to nurture and protect this new love in this womb, this cocoon.

this love, like our tree, will grow.

words & image (c) Kat McDonald 2013


4 thoughts on “the skin of a beautiful man.

  1. Pingback: the skin of a beautiful man. | sadlyme

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