Sapphicia Eros
by Josie Miáocat
Visions
Creme
Tell me again.
How much do you love me, my darling?
Speak your delicious words.
Place them on me.
Shhhh
Sleeping, now I'm awake.
She sounds of slapping.
Sliding and slipping.
Hands
Yes, but then again, no.
All the right parts are there.
(At least) two women, embracing.
Lipstick lesbians with long flowing manes.
Hands on breasts; right where they should be...
Hands on the counter, perfectly positioned for...
Feet apart, just enough leverage to receive impact from...
Pulp Play
(Impromptu writing based on 1963 pulp fiction cover.)
After stepping into her orange dress that morning, she zipped herself up, thinking nothing beyond the way it made her feel. How it hugged her waist in a warm textured embrace. How her sleeveless straps tugged at her shoulder blades on account of the tension from her ample bosom.
Portmanteau
Finally,
It’s coming.
In slang it is
Grool.
Fingertips
She writes me.
Daily.
I'm at her fingertips.
Holding my breath for what's to come.
I look at her. She looks at me. We are undone.
She sees the real me, the me nobody else sees, or can see.
Because she's writing me.
Voice
Hey meow. I'm Josie Miáocat. I was born in Phoenix, AZ, kissed girls before I knew it was a question, and believed every story should leave a hint of something never fully explored.
I write from the edge of sensation; starting with an image, a longing for the touch, reaching beyond the glow to the heart of the sensation.
My muse is music, art, and women who appreciate my making the first move.
What She Wants
Not fame.
Not followers.
To be read by a woman
who lingers.
Voice of Sapphicia
She is not the goddess of Sapphicia Eros, but its voice.
The image calls forth words.
Prefer Instagram? You can also DM Josie at @josiemiáocat