Erased

By Bud Koenemund

Vows are only words;
powerless ‘gainst desire:
erased by passion.

Lady's Choice

By Bud Koenemund

A 100 Word Story

  “Do you want a spanking?” he growled.
  “What?” she responded; not sure she’d heard him correctly.
  He waited; refusing to repeat himself.
  “You could get fired for that,” she warned.
  “Maybe,” he allowed. “But, you’ve been acting like a needy little girl all day, and it seems that’s exactly what you want.”
  “I can’t believe you,” she protested, weakly.
  “Sure you can,” he insisted.
  Again, she tried to disagree, but he interrupted.
  “You’re already thinking about it, aren’t you? Imagining my hand slapping your ass,” he taunted. “So, say no; contact HR, or turn around and bend over that table.”

Reflection

By Bud Koenemund

A 100 Word Story

For James

  Pale moonlight filtered through the dirty window panes, supplementing the meager illumination provided by half a dozen candles. The ancient Medium shuffled to her table – the movement stirring up dust which drifted in the gloom. Taking a seat before her crystal ball, she waved her hands back and forth over it, calling for an image to appear. Her old eyes struggled to focus. Finally, she recognized the dark figure – one she'd seen here many times. A moment later, she realized this was no vision, but a reflection from behind.
  "I've been waiting for you," she sighed, "...for a long time."

Love

By Bud Koenemund

I'm constantly torn

between revelation and

self-preservation.

Lust in the Time of Coronavirus

By Bud Koenemund

Quarantine with me.
Let's get naked and ignore
"social distancing."

Stand

By Bud Koenemund

A 100 Word Story

  Even as the fighting ended, peace still seemed like an ethereal dream; something that would slip through your fingers like cigarette smoke. The silence was surreal. The sound of gunfire and explosions, aircraft and dying men faded, replaced by…nothing; not even wind blowing across a wrecked landscape.

  Five minutes ago, they'd been at war – now they weren't. They’d run hunched over; sat huddled in bunkers; crouched in foxholes; ducked, crawled, and dove.

  For the first time he could remember, he stood up; stretching to his full height. He'd been a soldier all his adult life.

  “Now what?” he asked.

Moonlight Muse

By Bud Koenemund

A 100 word story

For Lindsay

  Swaying hips hypnotized him as he followed her along the beach. Leaving behind dying embers, they entered shadow. She tasted of salt, sweat, and Coppertone, and while his tongue stumbled over the stubble of sand clinging to warm skin he swore he’d never known sweeter.

  Her emerald eyes glimmered in silver moonlight, and fingers danced over flesh; taking pleasure in giving the same. Mouths stole breath from one another; surrendering to passion even as they realized the coming day would dissolve the promises spilling from their lips in the dark.

  After, they lay, entangled, whispering drowsy endearments to the stars.

A Fire Once Incandescent

By Bud Koenemund

A 100 word story

For Lindsay

  Rain pelted the umbrella spread above them. The droplets – furious and unrelenting – splattered against the black nylon, then joined in silver rivulets that ran over the edge to seek the ground. The couple, soaked from the knees down, huddled close as gusts of wind whipped along the gray concrete canyon, threatening their fragile shelter.

  Reaching the entrance of her building, they hesitated for a few moments, neither wanting to let go; each lamenting the drowning of a fire once incandescent. Recognizing her, the doorman fumbled his way into the maelstrom, extending his own umbrella, too late, as she ran past.

Muse Rejoined - A Haiku for NaPoWriMo

By Bud Koenemund

Muse Rejoined

For TK

Would'st thou write for me?

Confess thy heart, and make me
a muse to a muse.

Thirst - A Haiku for NaPoWriMo

By Bud Koenemund

Thirst

Concupiscence burns

hot, a thirst begging to be

quenched by your body.

Internet - A Haiku for NaPoWriMo

By Bud Koenemund

Internet

Everyone is

standing in a room screaming,
while looking at porn.

A Simple Word Too Easily Said

A sonnet for Kristen Brownell

Lord, how can so small a word cause such pain?
Indeed, the gift becomes too abstract when
Words, easily said, fall like drops of rain
On the ocean, and fool even wise men;
Oh, how the promises the heart believes,
When it dares to hope, break upon the rocks
Of high speech – but feelings only conceived –
Then sink down into the depths of self-mock;
Verses and oaths so quickly lose their worth
When once solemn pledges become dilute
Through casual repetition and dearth
Of the emotion real and absolute.
Even sweet words, spoke too oft’, turn sour,
And kill the root of this precious flower.