Saturday, February 4, 2012
Make Love...
make love...
slow, smoky…eyes move inside like a cord
wrapped around a wrista slow burn.
only a sigh through parted lips
matched by hips
parted legs
thighs wrapped
holding still until…
until
hands on either side of cheeks
mouths meet for a moment
cheeks flame for a moment-
thrusts build into a rhythm, a beat
only saved by punctuating blinks
eyes reach in, liquid trails down
the cock parts the holy water
the cunt baptizes the invader
sweat mingles for peace
and in a frenzy of all of this violence,
of all this suffering
the smoke subsides, the blaze is stilled.
and the bodies, they pile upon each other
like old friends.
(c)Anais
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