A heretic grin
interlaced with longing.
Ferocious need danced behind barren eyes.
Her poise.
Thunder clouds and electricity,
lead me to believe in her gospel of sin.

Where it not for her blithe commentary,
fornicating in the sea,
under stars,
against incidental walls,
I might not have chosen this bestial path.

Eyes shut.
Mouth taste free.
Skin cracking, lacking soothing lubricant.

Verbs worked their magic,
I performed, as she suggested.


Burning vowels propelled each thrust.
Sinner who was a Saint.


Physical glory.
Hedonistic behavior my own.
Pleasure points of deception,
etched into the surface of time.


My quest for consumption continues,
Demons laugh.
The devil delights.

Flesh burns bright,
smells spent.
Tastes salty with a tang of regret.

Hell is on Earth,
Mistress of ceremonies,
some say that I am wicked.

Photo Credit: Aimanness Photography Flickr via Compfight cc

Julie Anderson

Julie Anderson is the Creator and Publisher of Feminine Collective. Julie was inspired to create this safe place for women to share their secrets, desires, triumphs and pain as the antithesis of what mainstream media offers women today. In her column Pursuit of Perfection, she explores the importance of rectifying the balance of inner and outer beauty through essays, poems and articles on self-esteem, shame, family, and self- acceptance.

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