December 7, 2017

Breath & Pleasure. {Poem}

Sitting down, notebook in hand—
I attempt to put words
to what I’m feeling.

But instead of words flowing from my pen,
I feel my breath flowing through me.
The movement of my breath
is like a million light switches turning on—
bringing awareness to my body,
my senses, and to the life within and around me.

I continue breathing.

My breath makes its way into my limbs,
my lips, and each strand of hair on my head.
Noticing movement between my legs,
I realize that my vulva is swelling with every breath I take,
as if the air I breathe is a lover filling me up.

Breath is pleasure?
Or pleasure is breath?
In this moment, I can’t distinguish between the two.

My jeans push back against this swelling—
and frustrated by the resistance,
I take them off…

And continue breathing.

Lying down now,
I feel warmth trickling out of me.
I’m wet from this pleasure breath,
and the wetness is moving,
like a curious lover,
along the folds and valleys of my inner thighs—
wondering what more there is to discover.
I feel its every subtle movement,
and I wonder then if
it’s moving on me or if
I’m actually moving
within it.

I keep breathing…

And am caught off guard by the sounds
carried on my breath—
deep embodied sounds and
catch-in-the-throat sounds.
The vibrations from these sounds
intensify my pleasure,
and my hips begin to gently rotate.
I am dancing…
with my breath, to the music of my pleasure.

Hands still at my sides,
I continue to breathe this pleasure poem
well into the night,
Never touching my notebook at all.



With the Power of my Breath, I am Orgasmic in all that I Am.


Author: Natasha Salaash
Image: Unsplash/David Cohen

Editor: Yoli Ramazzina
Copy editor: Callie Rushton
Social editor: Callie Rushton

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Natasha Salaash