Miriam Feder home



peekabooOn my way back to the real world this morning, I listened to our song again.The minor key caresses my head. The metronome in my hips meets the rhythm and steers it through me. I exhale audibly and inhale from a deeper place. I feel connected to instruments and fingers of the musicians.

Touched and stroked, rubbed and caressed, my skin is finally sated. It sets me free to listen to my heart, hot and ripe, waking next to you. All night long you’ve been seeping into my psyche. I wake looking for an even deeper connection. A feeling of perpetual arousal and slight nausea burnishes me these days. In afterglow, electricity shoots across my shoulder blades, through my throat and right between my eyes. Each release expands my spirit, touching even the tiniest of polite encounters with strangers. It strokes more significant connections and my desires for the people of my life. My fingertips might burn through matter. Slightly taken aback, I must explain “I’m alive; I’m in love.”

I enjoy this sweet, erotic, love-soaked slant on new faces of spring. I’m grateful to you for making me the lover I’ve always wanted to be: received; expansive and cherished. I’m surrounded by fountains of discovery and rediscovery; the source and subject of so much passion.