Tag Archives: sexuality


I miss the way he looked at me as if he saw some beauty there.

He’d say, “Come sit and tell me all about your day”.

Then he’d hold me close and stroke my hair

as my troubles drifted away.

I miss the way he’d dance with me just because he knew

it was the one thing I truly enjoyed.

Dancing mattered to him not at all.

He simply wished to please.

Perhaps he needed more from me than just being there for him?

I miss seeing him across the table as we sipped a glass of wine.

I loved the way he’d speak to me about his life and world.

I loved that when I spoke to him he seemed to hear my words.

I miss when he’d stop talking and take me in his arms.

I miss him making love to me and sleeping all night wrapped in his arms.

How can one miss what one never really had?

How could I have been so wrong?

Your mind plays tricks on you as you age.

Have we become too old to love?

Is it possible hearts broken so many times can no longer feel?

Is it possible none of it was ever real?


McKenzie James

November 8, 2011


Wounded Lovers

He goes to bed alone.

She wakes to find him still gone.

She hears the baby cry.

The tears run down her face.

She misses his warm embrace.

She wonders how he can walk away.

He wakes to emptiness

and wounds he can’t express.

They both feel the pain.

Are they so different then?

She gave herself to him

believing it meant something.

He took the pleasure he sought

not knowing the pain he’d cause.

She lies in bed and cries.

He lies alone with his thoughts.

Wounded lovers

with two very different tales

of the same love affair.

McKenzie James

August 30, 2011

Stolen Trust

Stolen Trust

She was a pleasing child

her young body mature beyond its years

and men who should have cared for her

desired her instead.

Like any child she craved attention

from adults inside her tiny world.

She looked to him for comfort and direction

and was coaxed instead to join his secret sin.

A simple tale of youthful trust stolen time and time again.

Her journey was launched and as yet it has no end.

She daily feels the pain and owns the shame.

The reminder of the frightening game.

At age fifteen abused again.

So different yet so much the same.

This time a stranger, violent and strong.

A different man, the same old pain.

Years later she watches as others maneuver through the dance.

Observing lovers as they banter and play.

Where is the line drawn? What are the rules?

Is it just another version of the secret game?

She knows a man who’ll soon be 60 who craves a sweet, young woman of 23.

He lusts to rub his aging penis between her full breasts and thinks it will set him free.

Should he not be offering to share his wisdom and giving her sage advice instead?

Should she be taking counsel at his knee, or lying with him in his bed?

She cannot understand, no matter how often repeated,

that sex is simply sex to men pure pleasure deemed their right.

Their souls are simply left outside and rarely join the night.

Yet her spirit cannot be separated no matter how she tries.

Whether freely given or stolen her soul comes along for the perilous ride.

If lust and power rule the night and fear and shame the day,

how can she rely on a man to move her soul and yet hold it safe?

She longs to partake freely with a man she can trust.

Will the time ever come?  Will the pain ever stop?

She was a pleasing child

her young body mature beyond its years

and men who should have cared for her

desired her instead.

McKenzie James

July 6, 2011

%d bloggers like this: