The Taste of Citrus

Silken black blindfold

Covers eyes

Feel your thumb

Tracing my bottom lip

“Open up” you say

I hesitate only briefly

Before I obey

Tongue and teeth greeted

With sweet-tart taste of ripe

Blood orange

Juices running

Down chin


Bare breasts

You feed me more segments unhurridly

Citrus dripping

Skin sticky

Your lips

Long and lingering on mine

Before trailing down to drink

Sweet-tart juice

From my warm skin


© 2017 Christine Elizabeth Ray – All rights Reserved


The breeze carries the whisper

of my name

an unknown voice of longing

calling me from slumbers

beckoning me

into unfamiliar dreamscapes


I cannot help

but answer

this forlorn appeal

that echos

soul to soul

heart to heart


I become a wanderer

through this uncharted night

I move as if

in a fever dream

Alice in a Wonderland

destination unknown


Drawn further

and further

from my safe

familiar resting place

knowing only

that I am helpless

to resist your aching need


© 2017 Christine Elizabeth Ray – All rights Reserved

Image by Christian Schloe


The sheets with tiny pink rosebuds, incongruously innocent, are tangled beneath us.  Your lips travel slowly down from my earlobe down to my neck, marking your territory.  You stop at my collarbone; nipping it gently with your teeth before lifting your head to look at me.

Our shirts are lost somewhere on the floor, my bra discarded on the bed along with our socks.  Jeans and underwear create the only barrier that separates us from each other’s skin.  I want to know your skin as well as I know my own.  Every scar, every freckle, every tattoo, every perfect imperfection.

You hair is damp with sweat as you balance above me.  Your eyes are dark, intense, questioning.  I involuntary bite my lip.  I am already anticipating your fingers deftly unbuttoning, unzipping, removing the obstacles.  You take me out of my always busy head, reminding me that I am flesh, I am fire when I am with you.


© 2017 Christine Elizabeth Ray – All rights Reserved

Waking Dreams (revisited)

Your eyes haunt me

as I wander in this waking dream

the way you look at me

the way you look into me

seeing everything I keep hidden

everything that I keep close

you never look away


Your lips haunt me

as I wander in this waking dream

hypnotic, they spin words like diamonds

like rubies

like pearls

that you breath into my mouth

with your cinnabar kiss

they sparkle with your light

as they make their way to my heart


Your hands haunt me

as I wander in this waking dream

the way they caress my face

with aching tenderness

mold my curves

remake me into a shape

that fits perfectly against yours


The waiting haunts me

as I wander in this waking dream

the calendar on the wall

marking the days

an eternity passing

until your anticipated return

when we will together create

new dawn


© 2017 Christine Elizabeth Ray – All rights Reserved








You are liquid warmth

In the long frosty nights

You are soft whisper

In a world that only shouts

You are gentle touch

In a room of sharp corners and biting edges

You are jewel tones, full nuance and shading

In the stark white sterile spaces

You are embracing acceptance

At the end of the longest day

When the world has done its best

To wear me down

To break me

You are welcome respite for my weary soul

For my battered heart

And I long to lose myself in the shelter

Of your arms

© 2017 Christine Elizabeth Ray – All rights Reserved


Tear drops

trace your

cheek bones

almost languid

in their flow


Whisper soft

my hand reaches out

delicately wipes

errant tears away

caressing wet paths

they have followed


Hand sliding slowly

down your breastbone

to rest on

your beating heart

Caged, not free

I hear its lonesome song


We breathe in time

close my eyes

silently communicate

through gentle touch

Deep longing to ease

your heart’s

rough edges

Heal pain

ease burdens

And find

that your tears

have become mine


© 2017 Christine Elizabeth Ray – All rights Reserved




we are often just ships

passing by

during the frenetic work week

our sleep/wake cycles

not in sync

ruminating silently in the night hours

over our own individual worries

our daytime communication

focused on the logistics

of teenagers, bills, elderly dog

laundry, menu planning, the leaking sink

the busyness

forcing us to interact as

business partners


lazy saturday afternoon

the house is empty, quiet

except for the not so gentle snoring

of the dog we affectionately

call “darth jagger”

who can never bear

to be parted from you

his beloved alpha


this is when we

slip out of time

slip out of space

slip out of  heavy

grown up roles

thrust onto us by the world

and the relentless marching

of time


it is in these weightless

formless hours

my head upon your shoulder

my hand resting gently

on your heart

your warm skin

pressed against

my warm skin

that I am most grounded


we are liquid warmth

quiet breath

our inhales

and exhales gradually


floating thoughts

thin line between

dozing and waking


i love the joining

of our bodies

in rising tide

but it is in this sacred

space of after

where the true meaning

of intimacy

reveals itself


a featherbed

of trust


sensuous pleasure


welcome comfort

from a world

that increasing is chaotic


reshaping itself at

light speed

into something I no longer recognize


i am so grateful

that you welcome me

time and time again

into the circle

of your embrace

and offer me

this escape

this haven

for these precious hours

where we are renewed


© 2017 Christine Elizabeth Ray – All rights Reserved









Saturday Afternoon Poetry

bare skin glides against my rough edges

like warm sand you buff my contours smooth

mouth tracing the trail of my vertebrae

you become cartographer of my ridges and valleys

before breathing electricity along my spine

bold fingertips find the places I ache

work me like clay

patiently loosen the knots

I have tied myself into

until I exhale the pain

the tension

into your kiss

your palms

become silk flowing through your arms

sighs against your neck

arching into your body’s poetry

until we are a tangle of arms and legs

against damp sheets

consciousnesses floating free

no longer bound by time and frail flesh


© 2017 Christine Elizabeth Ray – All rights Reserved

Dragons and Peonies

The skin I am in

Longs to become acquainted

With the skin you are in

Our eyes meet

Across the room

And I forget that

We are not alone

We came tonight with

A larger group of friends

But we are increasingly

Attuned to each other


There is something in the air


I like the

Boldness of your gaze

As you keep catching my eye

Your snaggle tooth grin

The sound of your laughter

At some inside joke

The tantalizing glimpse

Of ink peeking out of

Your shirt sleeve


I wonder what it will look like

Lined up against the ink

On my arm

My gentle peonies

Against your fiery dragon

Your jeans and ironic tee

Hint of lanky muscles

Of steel

That I think will fit nicely

Against my curves


I cannot stop the smile

And slight blush from

Crossing my face

You seem to be

Reading my mind

Across the room

Your cocked eyebrow

And slow lazy smile

Indicate to me

That you are as

Distracted by me

As I am by you


I watch you make your


To your friends

That you have been

Only half paying attention to

Before you saunter

My way

When you are finally

Standing in front of me

I feel the warmth coming

Off your body

Catch a whiff of your clean scent

There is a sparkle in your eye

“Shall we?” is all you need to say

It feels as natural as breathing

When you reach for my hand

And we leave this crowd behind

Aware only of each other


© 2017 Christine Elizabeth Ray – All rights Reserved