Tuesday, March 24, 2015

I Hear Them But It's You I Feel

I’ve worn your scent all day
Could smell you with each shift of my shoulders…
Each bit of moistened flesh as I moved about my day
Every move I made had you shimmying back to the front of my mind
Your scent
Now all over me…

Each tiny bit of you that slithered beneath my skin
Made my flesh go bumpy and gave me that “Damn I remember you” shiver
The one that makes my breath leave my chest whispering raspy memories on its way out
Your scent
Now all over me

So many years from when we started
A lifetime really since I smelled you first
One touch
One moment close enough to take you in
Feel you and relive your touch, your body, the way mine reacts….
To you…

Here you are again
My body once again drenched in your aromas
Images of our history dropping before me like snapshots being tossed on a table
Finding a rhythm…our rhythm
Discovering what I like, what I want and what I need more of…

How to inspire you to make me want more

Remembering the beginning
How it all started
How I started
Part of me was brought to life
Sculpted into this woman I am now
Because of you….

Wet mouths
Nervous hands
The way my whole body would rattle
My tummy jumping
My legs shaking….
My young hands pushing you away
Your earthy and ready aroma pulling me back….

Sexy as hell the connection between my life, my body, my desire, my strength, my want and how something as primal and basic as scent can evoke memories so vivid that I can actually be transported right back to that moment when I first touched, tasted and felt. 

Nowhere in my life is this been more prevalent and powerful than with the very thing I chose, or more likely, was chosen to do, this here crazy world of wine. I find myself often not quite fitting in. I read posts and notes, those goofy Delectable entries rattling off what's in the wine, the "blackberry bramble" and "apple blossom" and my eyes begin to float, my heart and desire however, they just sink. Well right after my face scrunches up and I mutter, "What the fuck is bramble?!" I don't taste without feeling, can't write without feeling either. My grammar may suck and and my spelling is even worse, people will, and have, told me over and over again how I won't be taken seriously because of that. As I sit here, after reading, or  trying to read posts and articles about who's right and who's wrong, which critics suck and which make the freaking world of wine go round I find my square pegs feeling nice and comfy snug in this round hole.

To the French wines that first slipped beneath my skin, made me purr, bend my frame, crave and leak desire, thank you. To the handful of you that come here to jump over my typos and grammatical errors to sink your teeth into me and the wines that move me, I thank you.  I miss you when I'm away too long....and most of all, I need you. You feed me and keep me hungry. To open my heart, my laptop and my mouth for more. 

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