Phoenix feathers and stardust

The inner thoughts of a closet firecracker.

Poetry I have written is unapologetically NSFW. And protected by copyright.

Images have been found on the Internet and are not mine, contact me if they are yours and you wish them removed.

Contact me at phenix [dot] noire1 at gmail [dot] com

I am the sharp retort of a shotgun blast peppering across your memory.

You are the acid wash of tequila burning down the back of my throat; the fumes crawling up, until they catch the last train car on the subway of my breath as it escapes my mouth.

You burn.


Your memory claws at the sensitive skin of my heart, leaving red trails like my nails did down your back.

The memory of your hips rocking mine, the way your mouth caught my moans and sent them back, amplified but deeper, still takes my breath away.

The glass caterpillars you left in my stomach have become razor winged butterflies that slam mercilessly against the roof of my stomach; making my heart bang the floor with the broom, in an effort to shut them up.

N2O

Fingers curling around the leather of the steering wheel,

thumb drawing up and down,

right hand on the shifter.

Engine racing, feet shifting, I can’t stop thinking.

I see you in my mind’s eye - 

standing at the front of the room,

blue work shirt, wide shoulders,

belt slung around your waist.

You’re talking about our numbers,

instead I hear Maynard’s voice and the

drums pounding their carnal beat.

I am most

cer - tain - ly

not thinking about work.

I squirm in my seat and hope you don’t notice.

Your eyes meet mine, I guess you did.

How I really want to see you is

with your button down shirt untucked.

I want to be the one unbuttoning that shirt,

lips burning hot on your neck, tongue tasting your skin;

feeling your rumble of appreciation against my lips.

I want to bite the skin at the curve of your neck and collarbone.

I want to hear your indrawn breath and feel the evidence

of your desire pressed to my abdomen. Feel your hands

pull me in, make my back bow when you press me to you

capturing my lips, force me to the tips of my toes.

Hear the crisp hush of my button down

sliding from my skin, watching your eyes

devour what is underneath. Lace and shadows,

 watching the blood flush my skin pink.

Coerce surrender from my throat, tear my passion from me.

I’m waiting for your flame - frustrated and ready to burn.

Newton Was Right (Words by Phenix-Noire)
I was flying high, 
everything going my way;
unaware that the karmic downswing would be a killer.
The fall was crushing;
the arc to destruction nothing less than 
mathematically elegant. 
            An object in motion tends to stay in motion
            unless acted upon by an outside force.  
                       Stay in motion, Girl. 
The upward climb is hard 
pulling that weight on your back,
but learning how to laugh as I ride the karmic tire swing was worth it.

Newton Was Right (Words by Phenix-Noire)


I was flying high,

everything going my way;

unaware that the karmic downswing would be a killer.

The fall was crushing;

the arc to destruction nothing less than

mathematically elegant.

            An object in motion tends to stay in motion

            unless acted upon by an outside force. 

                       Stay in motion, Girl.

The upward climb is hard

pulling that weight on your back,

but learning how to laugh as I ride the karmic tire swing was worth it.

(Source: twocubes, via perpetual-inspiration)

Red light.

Music bumping.

I should probably turn it down, but here You come

in that sexy muscle car, rumbling Trouble in the lane next to me.

Hello Flame, I’m Moth. I’ll be incinerating myself on you tonight.

I’m probably offending the Mom in the caravan behind me.

(I should care. I don’t.)

These tinted windows bring out my Naughty.

Your engine grumbles its approval,

I can’t resist and purr in return.

I see your head turn my way.

My lips curve, that sideways smirk that means T-R-O-U-B-L-E for the opposite sex.

My inner imp takes over and pushes the window down a bit,

just enough so you can see my eyebrow raise up in challenge.

I see the light across the way turn: orange ….. red.

Green light. Go baby, Go.

Oh, yes - I did just look over at you.

Catch me if you can.

Let’s play, Flame.

Dubstep Nirvana

The full moon hangs heavy over the city skyline.

beautiful and pregnant,

she sways her way across the early morning sky.

I am wrapped in sable shadows,

headlights gliding through the night -

an 8 cylinder comet chasing dawn across the horizon.

Dubstep keeping metronomic time;

electric sex,

setting the pace,

lighting my heart aflame as I bleed energy

across the freeway.

 I’m one of many, a single

dot

of light, a pixel dancing on the brink of dawn.

Her sister, eager as always to steal the show,

starts lighting fires on the horizon.

But I?

I favor the night. The feeling of an engine racing,

one hand on the wheel, the smooth interplay between

foot, clutch, and gear shift.

Pistons pumping, music calling cadence,

breeze blowing past my open window.

Heaven.

Another dinner meeting.

It wouldn’t matter except I’ve

been up since 4 am.

I’m sipping my glass of red,

listening to the men

congratulate themselves on being

Masters of the Universe.

I feel your heated stare from across the bar.

I pretend to be engrossed in their conversation.

I throw back my head and laugh at some small joke,

extending the line of my neck so that your greedy eyes drink it in.

My movement turns sinuous as I draw the glass up to my lips,

there was no drop of wine left on the edge, I licked that for You -

watching your eyes burn as you watch my tongue dart out.

My smile turns soft and knowing, my eyes half-lid themselves;

my coworkers think I can’t handle my wine. Silly boys -

they’re missing the game that’s underway.

I’ve already won the business deal from the careless details Glenlivet’s

made them drop. I’m playing a different game tonight.

This one’s a game of teeth and necks, heated gasps and hands under 

skirts, fingers brushing inner thighs and my sharp breath in your ear.

I bite the edge of my lip and glance your way. Check, dear.

Shall we Check Mate?

Photo credit: Twisting through the night (by jimberneike)
Fragmentation - Words by Phenix-noire 
.
It’s far past quitting time
when I make it out to my car, quietly gleaming,
glittering a menacing black in the hush of the garage.
He sits and waits, smirking to himself;
knowing, what’s coming next.
I ease into his scent of dark leather, sighing.
Letting it enfold and soothe me.
The music switches on.
Flight 2626, the runway is yours. Cleared for take-off.
We merge out onto the freeway, joining the
thousands of fireflies, rocketing home.
I give into his temptation and let my foot increase its pressure,
just to hear his throaty growl.
My lips curve and we join the myriad pixels,
disappearing into the night.

Photo credit: Twisting through the night (by jimberneike)

Fragmentation - Words by Phenix-noire

.

It’s far past quitting time

when I make it out to my car, quietly gleaming,

glittering a menacing black in the hush of the garage.

He sits and waits, smirking to himself;

knowing, what’s coming next.

I ease into his scent of dark leather, sighing.

Letting it enfold and soothe me.

The music switches on.

Flight 2626, the runway is yours. Cleared for take-off.

We merge out onto the freeway, joining the

thousands of fireflies, rocketing home.

I give into his temptation and let my foot increase its pressure,

just to hear his throaty growl.

My lips curve and we join the myriad pixels,

disappearing into the night.

(via hoer-doch-uff)

Gunpowder


Tonight…

I am reckless.

Revving.

All eight cylinders firing.

Looking for Trouble to match my own.

I am gasoline - got a light?

Your eyes are sparking,

a grin is breaking across your lips,

matching my sideways smirk.

You’re rising to my challenge, aren’t you, Sugar?

We’re going to end up crashing into my foyer wall tonight.

Hands fumbling,

Breath catching,

Legs on hips,

Clothes pushed aside and torn,

My teeth at your neck,

Your hands in my hair.

Cries staining the air.

What was that you were saying about being good?

Algunas Veces (Sometimes)

Algunas veces

me canzo de ser tan buenita.

Algunas veces

quiero tener algien

que me quiere

mas que su mismo.

Algunas veces

quiero gritar al

cielo que no quiero

estar sola mas.

Algunas veces quiero

que algien me

entiende.

Abandoned

Like a book forgotten under a bench,

        I      waited.

You never came.

(Untitled)

I am tired

of

    always

          having

                    to

                       be

                            strong.

Sometimes I slip into my

mother tongue just so that I can vent

and no one will judge me because they 

can’t understand.

Bruises


You said you would build with me.

I built alone, without a safety net,

certain you would be there to catch me.


You changed your mind.


I stare at a half-finished shell,

wondering why I bothered to invest myself.

Bruises on the soul

form from this

painful

lesson;

stark purple-black against pale

naive skin,

fading to ugly yellow.

The shade of

unfortunate

lessons

learned.

Damn.

Scars

Like unexpected speed bumps -

I stumble across puckered,

reddened,

skin.

A

reminder

of

hopeful expectations

gone

wrong.

Metamorphosis


She is adorned in flowers,

covered in vines;

hair the color of chestnuts in a winter fire

tumbles free, in wild abandon to tickle her spine.

She has no use for jewels, rather -

her neck is circled with a carcanet of morning glories.

Skin as pale as the moonlight,

except for where the Sun has pressed His lips to it;

her irises are black pearls in the ocean depths of her eyes.

Butterfly wings hang from her ears,

while spider silk holds all of her broken pieces together.

Turquoise and gold threads stitch her back into place, while

crimson ribbons trail from her wrists to flirt and flutter in the breeze.

She’s weaving herself a chrysalis,

painstakingly twisted together from all the lies

and sharp-edged shards of a wasted life.

Soon now, so soon - she’ll slip in and sleep.

And she’ll dream of a better life, of the one to come - -

of course she will - she’s never stopped dreaming.



Pointless

Aching throat,

breaking heart.

Wishing for comfort from

someone who only ever

starved

me.

You’re incapable of

     loving,

          giving,

           remembering,

                     Anything.

   I heard you blame me

  for this slippery slope we fell down.

                                       I tried to stop us

    But it doesn’t work when there’s only one person trying.

                           Damnit.