Disclaimer: Mom, Dad, Di, Pastor, I have absolutely no idea what I’m writing about. I solemnly swear this is all too much reading. 😐

Rated: M  (Trigger warnings apply for sexual themes.)

Prayers to the Holy Father rise up, swift, and gentle, swaying, pleading on behalf of my thoughts, and my tongue, in advance; And although they rise above my head fervently…are inked in prayer booklet like the stories I write…more urgent is my desire to possess you;

Possess you…

I want to possess you, sink into your skin, burn your lips with a heat that is both pleasure, and pain, beginning, and end, until you whisper the name of God, sing His praises wholly, and certainly because all at once The Universe has unfolded before you, and I have gifted it to you–star, and moon, and rising sun–bitten glory into the surface of your skin where it spreads: fierce, bright, red, glowing–flushing your neck, and chest, and arms, glazing you like fire at the birthplace of fine china, and colourful, unbroken glass;

Unzip me: unzip the mask that holds me, and savour; Savour the revelation of loss, and gain; Touch: touch until it is not you, but I, who inhabits you; until it is not your breaths, but mine, that kiss you from the inside out–unwind you, unravel the taste that is your mouth, the heat that is your blood, spilling over, pulsing, spreading between us, consuming us both, as we twain, seek our escape;

Surrender. Do not make me beg. Do not steal prayers from me that are meant to ghost your skin.

Surrender. Surrender to the whisper of your hair against my neck; the weighted, easy pressure of your fingers pressed into the dip of my back, uneven curve of my spine–

Sink. Fall breathless against my breast; let the moisture of your exhausted exhalations bead my…

Sink. Do not request that our demons be exorcised. Forget them; forget them with the grip of my fingers in your hair; forget them with the first taste, the third taste, the last taste, the impression of teeth against skin.


K.N.O.W. Tuesday, July 5 thru Wednesday, July 6, 2016. 22:30 hrs to 00:39 hours.

Author’s note: I blushed the whole, damn way through this.

A Little Bit of Love & Lust

Today, I’m writing on the lighter side of life. 😀

L wasn’t who you would consider a girl’s dream. In fact, it was the dark persona he attempted to portray that probably drew me at first. He was going to the same camp that I was, and as usual I never gave any being of the male species the time of day. We met maybe on the second day of the practice camp. He needed a Bible to borrow, and I had an extra one. I never noticed his friend in the background. As the practice camp flew by, except for the one time that L’s friend and I were in the same drill line, I never remembered them again.

The days to the actual camp upon us quickly. I flew with L and a few friends to Antigua. I was  positively ecstatic that I would not only be in another country, but also spend one day with friends without the inquisitive,sometimes stern, eyes of my mother. L and I spoke for a while on the flight over, but I spent most of my time with my head buried in my book or looking at the islands that we stopped in. I never noticed that his friend wasn’t on this flight, subconsciously assuming that he was on the next flight with my mother.

L was entertaining to say the least, and while on some level, my fourteen year old body might have found him to be an attraction, my brain never quite got the memo.  Conversing with him was stimulating, he could keep the entire group of us enraptured in his comical stories. We talked alot, and we, along with his friend, were usually always together. Strange for me, since I was always one of the first to consider the importance of modesty and proper decorum, and being seen in the company of two boys was simply not my “thing”. To compound the issue, at the first sporting event, something of an unusual occurrence-well for me- happened.

We were sitting in the stands. L on the level above me, and his friend beside him. The sun had been brutal, for a “supposed” early morning. Irked by the heat, fed up of holding my umbrella, irritated by the constant strain on my back, and the desire to have some form of relief, my body overrode my brain and slumped against the open legs of L. For a few minutes, my brain didn’t catch up with my body’s careless actions, they were both too relieved to notice our inappropriate position. As soon as it registered upon my clearly addled brain -__-, I flew forward, almost shooting up off the stand. “What the hickory had I done?!” I looked up at him, confused by his startled expression at my reaction. He stared at me trying to comprehend my sudden movements.  As I silently reprimanded my body, I shifted over to the less,  magnetic pull of his friend’s legs. By the time my mother had arrived on camp, I think everyone except me, assumed that we had some form of relationship outside of our easy- going friendship. Even my mother unconsciously dropped firm stares in our direction. L, myself and T- L’s friend- were now firmly stuck to each other, mostly because I found it difficult to befriend girls of my age.

By the third or fourth day of camp, L realised that T had developed somewhat of a crush for me. Being me, I already knew that something of the sort had been brewing his mind. I did what I knew best, ignored the supposed secret inkling of both their minds, thinking that none of this would go anywhere. L approached me with the (partially true) tale, that everyone on camp was forming ideas about us. To diffuse the brewing rumours, he suggested that I spend more time with the more innocent looking T, and less time with him. As he fed these lines to me, I heard the first inner stirrings of my subconscious, laughing at their attempts to trade me. I decided to let things go, and see what would come of this. I gave up on trying to reading my book. L finished telling me the reasons that I should consider doing the “switcharoo”, and now all of us were sitting around looking at the people walking to, from, and around the stadium- the central point of the campsite.Before I knew it my childish side took control and I was chasing poor T around, threatening him with the very hard  covers of my really thick book. We laughed and talked crap, acting like a pair of sugar- high five- year olds. And here the sun dance begins.

The Changes I Fear

Kadeen Nichelle Oksana Waldron

Monday, June 25, 2012

The Harmony


Within the darkness of my dreams
I hear the symphony stirring.
I look into the pools of your dark, amber eyes;
My body attunes itself to the desire burning within.
You say I am the harp, and you are the musician;
But we both know the truth–
I am the musician.

The harmony begins as your breath falls across my lips.
The first note crescendos slowly,
The sound emanates with an ethereal beauty,
promising more.
I run my fingers fluidly through your hair,
Feeling the legato-like softness of those silken curls.
My lips taste the hollow of your throat,
Et con vaghezza,
The beauty of B minor is revealed…

The tone of a sour note
Breaks the melodious harmony.
The strings of the harp break.
The symphony ends abruptly.
The harmony must forever remain incomplete…

Kadeen Waldron
February 21, 2011- 01.30 a.m.

*grazioso (graceful) in this context means grace to encourage the fluidity of the poetry 😉

*Switched grazioso to vaghezza 😀