Silence is never truly silent
It is filled with complexities that only the dreamer can hear
The one with the story book mind
The one making murals out of the quirks in the walls-
Making observations of the tiniest of details
Observing the world,
It's inhabitants,
It's untouched laws

It fills the neurons with life
Actual life-
Pulling apart every fine line

The dreamer is not a dreamer at all
The dreamer is called just that by the outside that looks in-
Unable to breathe in the revelations of reality-
Life that the ravenous are too blurred to see

Hush, you'll hear it too
Let yourself be silent
Pay attention and you'll see
let the observations of your mind free to touch your conscious
So you can live in the unfabricated realms of which we too often deny

(C) Tiffanie Noel Doro

A sweet face and a delightful frame is always a treat to be desired
But what I really treasure is a mind with such character that I'm enlightened to the point of gravitation-
Continuously interested by its design
A feeling that no other could even attempt to replicate inside of me

(C) Tiffanie Noel Doro

bodies buzzzzz
bliss smiles radiate from hearts
while the scent of sweat and drooling lips
caress the air around....

We lay,
hands and legs entangled
blood beats to the rest of our bodies now...

Panting subsides,
afternoon sunlight beckons us
from the windows,
while waves of indigo blue dragon ecstasy skip and zip around
our cinnamon and milky skins
like electric pleasure tides.

Here... we lay in the emerald river,
our bodies float,
we whisper sacred love words into
each other's mouths--
the foamy fig cream jazz lavender waters
tickle our bellies,
we giggle when it tickles our armpits...

Content glazed eyes flash pink
rose petals, the spirit flower grows in us,
and we sigh in wonderful unison,
hoping to spend at least eternity into each other.