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The quiet of sex



The quiet of sex
By HAZARD on 12/30/2007
Viewed: 470
Reviews: 3
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As though touching transfigured
we touched lightly.
Skin sipped at skin, eyes shy shuttered
blinked ambition.
White blushes whispered,
souls blanched, twin drenched.
Scrawled names won to rhymes
in rhombic twining - shaped against obscure glass.

Buttons and buckles dull clicking,
our cotton shed, slothed, all mannered skins forgotten.
Fruits dismayed turn bruised.
Still touching, closeness deafening.
Heads aswim with ocean-like thrumming,
mouthed hearts, mettallic amid the tremors
of questing hands that slip and smooth, stroke and slide;
touching, so light, yet darting in their suddeness.

The last of long sighs, of breaths held, of eyes locking.
The quiet of sex, now stolen from lost hours, now physical;
like past in present.
Such soft lips weighing bone and surface -
light won centres, as arched backs bow to scrape silk.
Sinews screech and bodies blotch.

The luminous dial awakens and burns the night.
Arms at four forty five - alarm primed.




© By HAZARD On 12/30/2007 1:30:22 PM
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