Throw Back… In Time

Throw back to a girl in the sand with a tan and a gorgeous man next to her.


Throw back to a teen just coming clean with her hormones and not realizing how crazy she was for that boy.


Throw back to a little girl of 5-7 with hair in a bun in a ballet class that keeps her away from the birds of prey in her family.


Throw back to your womb mother dearest where all was protected and not affected by the outside world.


Throw back to that star that shines above my window as I think of you and your lips so soft on mine. And your sublime embrace that just made me feel at home away from home….

Flashback to that night that you parted my lips and intertwined your tongue with mine… so divine

Like red wine strong and delicate you nibble at my neck…

Then check your self…

Am I dreaming?


Your hands on my hips as I open myself to your manhood….divine

And you whisper…your mine now and thrust deep into my soul.


Throw back…. to last night.

When you got up and left only to leave an imprint on my heart.

God how do I start this damn heart again it’s defective and all broken in pieces.


How does it work again, how can I love again, how does it rise up from its infinite pain.


And I think again…. throw back to your closed eyes as you sleep next to me and I know that one day you will find me.


Throw back to a woman with her toes buried in the sand next to the sea and the land that she loves with a love so mighty no one can tear it from her gripping hands.


Flashback to my hands touching your face as I give in to your embrace and the sound of your heart beating next to mine.

Published by

Eleana Kouneli

A former dancer, current yoga teacher, writer, curious traveler and wild soul. My fuel and desire is to learn from others and spread healing and joy as I go. Follow my adventures and see where they lead you! All the stories are true, all the poems are real and all the writing is mine. Enjoy

One thought on “Throw Back… In Time”

  1. I liked the snippet I read before and the full version here. The painted picture is vivid and direct. I can smell and feel the wet watercolors on the wall. Basquiat-esque verbal expression has been released from your heart to our hearts and ears. Thank you.


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