Coming Close

Hello to all of you. I think you have noticed that my platform aesthetic is changing. I am coming closer to what I want it to be.

I want it easier to see what you want and what you enjoy. Those of you who like my poetry will get that. There will be two forms of it. One Title E.P. stands for Erotic Poetry and the other will be Poetry. Why the separation? There are those who to not favor erotic kind of poetry. Both are powerful forms, but some just do not favor it.

That being said my stories are still going to cater to the adult form with the rating with the title. Every post will have a rating and when it gets explicit it will have the rating the coincides with it.

I have been hinting for a while that I have a surprise for all of you. Here it. I have started a mail club for writers and poets. You may wonder why I would start this and why can’t I just post everything online. I wanted to do something that would bring me closer to you and give you a smile to receive something in the mail from me.

What you will receive is a letter from me, A short story that will go with the theme of the month, two prompt cards. Each specifically geared towards what you lean towards in writing and stickers. I post the update of where you can sign up for this.

The club is called H.F. Post Society

I remember having a pen pal when I was young and I was excited to receive those letters. I want you to get excited to receive a letter from me.

Please bear with me as I work on this platform. Till the next we meet keep stoking those fires. Fia Naturie.

Run

I want you to run from me
Run as far as you can
Once I decide to set my sights
My vision will only see you
I will not be able to restrain myself
I will stay in the shadow and watch
You will feel me there
You will never see me there
Take the out
Run
I feel it just at the surface
Itching to be released
To consume you
Swallowing your fear like an aphrodisiac
Your eyes widening
Revealing everything
You secretly know… don’t you
That you are the rabbit
Not the pure, pristine rabbit
The one you should have been a cat
The number of lives you used
Trying to get away
The forest has no panic button
I am the wolf
Salivating from the sound of a rapid heart
Fighting the urge to chase
Do not taunt me
You know what and who I am
I watch you swallow
A nervous penchant
Shows the effect of what is occurring
You walk towards
Run
Run away
This is the last of the warnings
You come closer
The more I lose myself in this
The more you will have to endure

How are you all? I am writing out of sequence. This is the second part. The first is called Think and the third is called Behind the Door. The secret will be announced soon.

Sorry?? (poem)

What does the word even mean

An apology that is supposed to be given when felt

The word does not erase the feelings

That absolute absurdity of it

As a child you were made to say your sorry

Looking in that same child’s eyes 

There is not an ounce of remorse

Confusion

Anger

Adolescents are no better

Sorry rolls off the tongue to remove you from sight

Why say the word when they have done no wrong

Too sensitive

Delusional

Adults are a quagmire of word play

Rather the meaning of the word sorry

Sorry that you were caught…

Sorry that you heard it that way….

Sorry that you are having difficulty…

When are we going to realize

Sorry is only believed when the soul feels it

Within we have a natural detector to know when it is true

And when it is false

I have lived a life accepting and giving, sorries

And in this life time

Short as it is

I felt the truth

And given my truth

I feel such sorrow

For all of humanity

Because sorry cannot erase the damage/the carnage

Still, sorry falls from lips with no remorse, just avoidance

Count Down Surprise

Hello, fire starters. I have been holding back a secret that I can now share with you. (Well… I have other secrets too…. not ready to share though)

I will be attending BOOK CON 2026 at New Yorks Jacob Javits center. It will be 4/18 and 4/19. This convention will show case traditionally published authors and indie authors.

I will have a table representing Hypo Frost Magazine and my e bookstore. Not only that. I will have my own published book Rum Over Whiskey there.

I would be doing a disservice by not saying that I did try to reach out to authors on WordPress to see if they would like their work to be placed on my table and in my bookstore.

Unfortunately, I think they may have thought I was a scam or bot. I will try to reach out again. If you are curious about me and what I do. I will be officially starting a newsletter. I did try a test run, and it was ok but with all new things it takes time to master.

I am so excited to share this with all of you. Until next post. Have a great day.

Hey You Guy’s

I have great news. I will have a table at Book Con 2026′. I am freaking out about it.

I will be representing Hypo Frost Magazine and Bookstore, and Stars Rite. A writing community. My table will represent both. Those writers who are published will be on the table.

I will post some pictures so you can see and tell all of you about the experience. That is it for now.

Fia.

Masseuse on a Mission

Have you ever had a massage that was so intense that the muscles in your stomach cramped up.

OMG

The woman almost had me begging to stop. I needed the massage for my back, but my stomach was protesting.

When she decided to climb on the table to get really into the muscle, I slammed my hand on the table giving the sign that you won. I give up. All athletes recognize that sign.

Maybe she never seen Wrestling or Mixed martial arts. There was no white flag to wave in surrender.

Then I heard it the buzzer saying our time is over and my body is my own to torture as I please.

I considered calling for help because I am pretty sure several bones snapped and normally that relieves some of the pain, I had a sneaky suspicion that my skeleton was not going to hold up my frame.

I was going to go down hard. Fine…I will survive. This is just my way of saying “I paid for this. Why am I complaining?”

My Love (Poem)

My love does not lay in a bed of roses

nor does my love like to follow a trail of dying petals.

My love does not have poise’s woven into her hair,

My love is not conventional.

It is potent

Dash away the repetitive symbols,

For my love do not require these objects.

For my love will always cherish the moments.

The memory of the first hand holding,

The first held breath,

The first gentle and  truth in a kiss.

My love is not in the past,

but ever present in the now.

Fia Naturie

My opinion on Word Press

I have been trying different platforms to see how they differ from Word Press. I am going to say this.

There is so much more engagement in readership here than in any other platform. I gave the other platforms ample time before I came to this conclusion.

Word Press people at least attempt to reach out once in a while verbally but their likes are worth a lot. It means even though they may not know what to say or they are uncomfortable speaking to a stranger they like your content enough to give it a star.

I have been posting stories and now poetry here for a long time. I have seen the difference. No one has to like what you do that is not what I am saying. What I am saying is that people want to see that they are at least being seen. The count that shows who seen the work is a great indicator.

I have closed down the sites because I know that no one is even trying to give new people a read. That is why I noticed that “influencers” have been pushing their platform hard and the point that they are being sponsored.

I could leave it there, open and forget about it but why? There are too many things created and left for dead. I would rather bury it and move on.

I am sure people have other sites they write on and that is cool but I find it strange that these site claim to be the best with getting traffic to you post.

That is all that is on my mind today. Have to work on my spoken word poem to post on my site. Have a good night.

Short and Hot

Yvonne

If you had told me, I would be in the arms of this man. This particular man, who made it a point of not acknowledging my existence. I will call you an absolute liar.

You see, I’m not the typical woman you would find walking in the streets. Nor would I ever want to be because everybody seems to be determined to be a carbon copy of each other. I am what is characterized now as a little person. My height is 4 feet 9 inches.

I have certain attributes that I enhance to get men to look at me, but that is just to feed my ego. When you’re the last one to get asked to go anywhere, your way of thinking gets a little obscure.

I thought I wasn’t chosen because I wasn’t pretty enough, and that I couldn’t look like the others completely. I mean, I can fit into fashionable clothes; it’s just that I will have to have them taken in and hemmed. After graduating from high school, I decided that I would never wait again for someone to choose me.

I will never be that girl who’s raising her hand, saying, ” Pick me, pick me. I am going to be that woman who chooses that man.

Now I’m in a predicament that I did not see coming. Devin Martin has me pinned against a wall with his body so flushed against mine that I feel his arousal.

“Yvonne, I have had enough of your taunting me. You act like I don’t see you. Of course, I see you, but I will not be one of those men that you toss aside and think it’s OK.” He said, whispering in my ear.

“Let me down, Devin,” I said with a calm voice that was not mirroring what was going on inside me. I was battling with feelings that I buried a long time ago for Devon. He went out with the most popular girls. The same girls who would tease and sometimes hurt me physically.

Everyone had a crush on Devon. He was not the guy in the sports team, or was he the guy in the band? He was the guy who ran the school paper and got a scholarship to the most prestigious school one year before even making it to his twelfth year. All this time, he ignored me as if I were an insect on the wall.

I made it a mission to be in his vision as much as possible because I was angry, and I wanted it to be seen by him. Now he sees me, and I’m not sure if this was what I wanted.

“I’m leaving tomorrow. This is your chance. I know you want me. There is no more hiding between the two of us because I wanted you just as badly.”

As I felt his cheek brush against mine, a rush of pleasure went through me. Devin wouldn’t let me say a word. Instead, he kissed me. Not soft like I dreamed it would be countless times in my bed, room alone.

No, this was a kiss of pure hunger. Of a person who has denied himself what he wanted and decided there was no more waiting. I matched his passion with my own. I wrapped my legs around his hips, holding tight. He had my hands above my head, holding them together with one of his. With the other, I felt him caressing my breast. I moaned into the kiss as I arched into his hand.

He pulled away from the kiss, and we were both breathing hard and staring at each other.

“Do you want this? Oh, are you teasing me?”

“I’m not teasing you, but we cannot do this here.” As I motioned with my eyes to show him where in the wrong place to do what we both want.

With one more grind of his hard member, he let go of my hands, and I unwrapped my legs so I could stand on wobbly feet.

“Later today, then? You come over to my place.” Devin asked, waiting for my response.

Before I answer it, I need a question of my own to be answered. “Are you doing this for some prank? Because I know you’re going out with Stephanie”.

“Stephanie and I were never an item. This is not a prank, and to prove it to you, I will walk out  holding your hand so everyone can see us together because I don’t give a damn about what other people think.”

With my question being answered? I told him I would be at his place by six.

(If you want to read the conclusion of Short and Hot. Let me know.)