Tuesday, July 12, 2011

Thoughts After Sex.

There is a slight glaze upon my lips
That won’t wash off
And I can still smell the
Burning heat of passion
Stinking up the room.

The taste of her
Caught in my mouth
The pungent aroma a sweet fix
So pleasing to my pallet,
And I still lick my lips to remember.

Her tired eyes gaze upon me
As I lie next to her in silent adoration
Puffing away on a cigarette
Humming the beautiful notes
Of kisses I placed upon her soft, tender body
Only moments ago.

There she lies
My Rose
My Venus of Urbino
And as she smiles in saffron
Hinted by the light of the candle
I close my eyes to dream
Of a future that will never be.

She brings forth hope
The New Renaissance
Reincarnated before me
In such vision I cannot describe.

I inhale poison to exhale purity,
A concept I once thought destroyed.

Even after the deed is done,
She still smells like roses
Auburn hair wild and tantric
Like laying in a field of exotic flowers.

Perfume like this could kill me.

Curious, how I once thought myself so much better
And here I stand, arisen yet overwhelmed.

She gets up and pours me a glass of wine,
A toast to hope and my dreams.

What of my dreams?
Shall we progress beyond this room?

A brief walk to the window heralds
A myriad of stars in which I point out
Our constellations beyond
The stifling city lights.

I’m afraid of what I can’t see
What the world blinds me from
In these shadows so eager to destroy.

A hand upon my shoulder
Another upon my back
Tells me otherwise.

For the first time, I am not ashamed
As I turn back to face her glowing smile.

Tears entrench my once vacant eyes,
Pleading my grasp upon her.

There is still a slight glaze upon my lips
That won’t wash off
A scent and a taste
I cannot forget.

Somehow, I don’t really mind.

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