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Sunday, April 10, 2011

the afterglow

she always said it...
there was a hint of disbelief,
each time he wandered
back into her life
and crawled into her skin.
counting the days seemed sheer torture
for miss nymph.
nail biting,gin and juice.
the time was passed in increments
which dragged on
until his arrival.
she would inhale the musky
highlights of his manhood,
lay down on egyptian spun
300 count~
let him watch as she opened the doors
to paradise.
he would look inside her soul
and then into her eyes
as she embraced the tiny death
that cascaded over her.
her creamy thighs
would go sky high
while he dined on a sticky appetizer.
the incredible lightness
embraced her mind as he tasted
the on coming denial of victorian
morality.
this was always the moment she longed for~
back arched,his tongue
riding the curves of her spine.
and that feeling...
the inexplicable jolt
of giddiness that surrounded her heart
as he filled the depths of her desire
with his spirit.
...this time she let go.
make sure he saw what she felt.
so as he walked away,
the neighbor child's party
provided the truth.
"this is what you do to me"
she whispered.
he smiled and walked away.
he would be back by the time she came down.

7 comments:

  1. "the on coming denial of victorian
    morality" Well done, in addition the graphic detail of the encounter, the disturbance of the children's party is a witty touch. Reminder of a potential accident perhaps, as well as adding an element of humor.

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  2. dang wurdz...this is wicked good...opening the gates of paradise, drying like...and a superb close man...

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  3. Beautiful culmination of a wonderful piece.

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  4. wow man... Dig this poem, nice work

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  5. Excellent, perfect, intense. Love it.

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  6. oh dear kettle corn...

    and I don't think my feet would ever touch ground either.

    now i gotta go see about some gin and juice...

    ReplyDelete

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