4.3
May 27, 2018

Sacred Sex: I know Him & He knows Me.

Legs spread, I know him.

His hands, placed on the fleshy parts of my thighs, as he lowers himself down onto me.

I pant and bite my lip.

I know him.

Currents of electricity run up and down my body—hot and cold at once—red and magma, cool and blue.

He looks at me with no effort, only the care that oozes naturally from the potency of his gaze, locked on mine.

And mine on him.

He knows me.

And this why this matters—I think, as he draws me closer to him, tears like pearls destined to pour out of both our eyes.

He doesn’t touch me like I am marble—he touches me with reverence, but with the distinct knowing that I am real and solid—wild and here.

A tigress, unfolding in his arms.

And I am.

And in these moments—I let go completely.

And he is a healer. I trust him that much.

I surrender completely—my body melts and reforms, liquid then solid.

Then gold,

Trembling and smiling

What I know is this—

I know him.

And he knows me.

That’s why this is good. That’s why this is different.

Passionate, but careful—full of care—heart leads the way for bodies to crash and cascade on each other like waterfalls, mixing our waters to form a new, rich, expansive sea.

Soul drips to form togetherness.

I am home.

This is it.

I arch my back in ecstasy as he kisses my neck, tattooing his love into me with his lips—bedazzling me invisibly, but in this palpable way that lights me up.

The divine is alive, awake in him.

It is so beautiful, I could weep—

Instead I lay back, as he enters me, slowly, with all his focus on feeling, on my body, on decoding what my face says.

I relax deeply, spreading like silk to allow him inside.

I look at him and do this novel thing—I let myself be loved.

Thoroughly.

Reverently.

I let myself be seen, for all my wildness and wounds and all that has made me wise and tough, soft, strong, and interesting.

And I love him.

His love pours into me, bright white and pure—I glisten.

He glistens.

Sweat becomes art, then all the grit becomes diamonds.

In this, an unspoken bond is formed.

~

Author: Sarah Harvey
Image: Unsplash
Editor: Lieselle Davidson
Copy Editor: Catherine Monkman

 

 

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Sarah Harvey

Sarah Harvey resides in the mysterious mountains of western North Carolina. Through the journey of healing her own trauma and pain, she has found power in poetry, art, and dance. She loves supporting people to step into their power, find their voices, and flourish. She believes in resilience. She believes that sometimes, our darkest days lead to the most unexpected, breathless joy. She currently offers life coaching sessions and is pursuing her Masters in Counseling. She feels passionate about supporting sensitive souls with a grounded, creative, and gentle approach. Follow Sarah on Facebook and her website!