Monday, February 29, 2016

Muse





















So I look on, still enslaved,
lips tingling with phantom thoughts,
mouth watering and
prophesying a darkened room,
with two hearts...pounding.

Pounding.

Smile at the surrender, the knowing,
imagining the exposed neck,
the finger tip decent,
rounding hips,
tracing the inner thigh,
hands gliding smooth,
summoning goosebumps,
till eyes lock... dilating.

Breathe deep.

Beginning the rhythms,
the many visited symphony,
charming again the muse,
wrestling away her brilliance.
I reach for entangled brush,
bartering a given release,
but take the wash cloth forcefully.

Mine.

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