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Sandra Jean-Pierre | Digital Artist & Writer of Words.

Category: Writing

Out Of Order

My Peers are in their late 30s/early 40s. Some have been to and graduated college or University. Some of them are married.  Some have children. Many of them have careers that they either love or hate. All of them are making it through the best they can. And I am on the outside of their experiences, looking in, wondering what normal would feel like. Some time ago one of my peers posted how their Parent had a cold and that

Leaders

Being a Leader is not just about the mountain-top moments, with sun shining, birds chirping as you succeed and win. Where everyone wants to be around and everyone is a friend. Being a Leader is also about watching what you put your blood, sweat and tears into, swan dive off a cliff in horrific majesty. It is then about experiencing those who’ve just watched what happened and who you’ve lead, turn around and say to your face (or with their

Break You

© 2017 Sandra Jean-Pierre You can’t let me break you   can’t let my desire be so heavy it threatens to bend your will in half   You can’t let me break you   can’t let my nails dig so far into your skin that the scars hurt   You can’t let me break you   can’t let my moans ring so loud in your ears that I am all you’ll hear…   You can’t let me break you…

Lazy Sunday

© 2017 Sandra Jean-Pierre Promising breeze billowing these curtains as we lie in Our bed   Your lazy Sunday morning kisses dress me in desire.   Listening to the stillness of the world outside, I welcome the feelof your lips on my hot skin relishing how your mouth latches onto my breast   sigh…   how divine, to feel your thigh between my legs – leaning in pushing me to that place   with no words, only moans to let

Her Dominance

© 2017 SandraJean-Pierre In her bed, wrapped in sheets and sweat my cum fresh on her face and fingers her name still lingering in the damp air from these bruised parted lips my cheeks so flushed from what her tongue made this body feel and do the heaven on this bed marked by my love notes scratched crimson into her broad, strong back her pride at making me her quivering mess, my shame in needing her like this so much

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