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Moment

"A vignette."

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7 Comments 7
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185 words 185 words

Spread your
palms, let him read the
Mounts of Venus. Iris to iris,
watch him taste
the tips of slender desire
longing to encircle
surrender.

Go slow when you hold
the smoulder of the Sun.
Feel it dip into the horizons of shoulders,
invite thumbs and index to craft
a vise,
a gasp,
a rapture of
twin peaks twisted on
molten flesh. Whimper,

breathe, smile, swallow,
follow the flash of instinct,
exhale down to knees.
Nascent passion grows when you
lick the slick admission of desire,
enclose a pulse in cheekbones taut,
and glide away, a glacial pace.

Steady hands will weave
familiar patterns in your hair.
Allow him
to draw you to the root
of wanting
and waiting
for your next intake of
breathless air.

By now, you know that love
is like oxygen,
is like him watching
the same woman behind
closed eyelids.
Your safe space lies in
the mess you make of
a perfect syllable
stifled by a push past lips,
and a thrust too deep to
savour the present
predicament -
hold still, sweet girl, until
butterfly seams hold time again.

Published 
Written by Kinley
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