Silk cords fasten and unfasten themselves around your waist,
pink and crimson playing beneath my fingers,
burrowing into the warmth of you,
like the pink wetness of rabbit's nose,
and your hair's brown strands tickles the back of my palm.
"I think I love you" you whisper,
and my lips freeze; only my hand remains suspended in motion,
furrowing itself into crevices that conceal the mystery of creation
they say.
I say nothing, allowing you to translate my silence into the language of your desires.
"Coward" you say.
I always knew that sex contained the truth.
No comments:
Post a Comment