I have fever.
An intense, cold fever.
I dream of her nipple,
Her extended goosebump,
On her satiny skin.
From her areola, my warm breath sends out a ripple.
The breeze howls through the sliding window.
While I slide her camisole off her tattooed back.
But is it me she dreams of? Is it her I make love to?
Or, are our bodies remembering them?
One by one?
Her moan escapes through the half-unhinged noise of the bathroom window.
And the exhaust fan shoos away our body heat.
As our otherworldly cats try to meow in our cold balcony...
We climax as one.
Sitting up together without stopping our perspiration,
We script each other's fantasy.
Stillness quivering, our fever slowly subsides.
Is this love our fever, pain, or something like it? Or, only a bit more...
Is this my very bedroom, my very life?
My dream?
My troubled awakening?
Is this all a part of another dream from which someone else hasn’t woken up? Yet?
An intense, cold fever.
I dream of her nipple,
Her extended goosebump,
On her satiny skin.
From her areola, my warm breath sends out a ripple.
The breeze howls through the sliding window.
While I slide her camisole off her tattooed back.
But is it me she dreams of? Is it her I make love to?
Or, are our bodies remembering them?
One by one?
Her moan escapes through the half-unhinged noise of the bathroom window.
And the exhaust fan shoos away our body heat.
As our otherworldly cats try to meow in our cold balcony...
We climax as one.
Sitting up together without stopping our perspiration,
We script each other's fantasy.
Stillness quivering, our fever slowly subsides.
Is this love our fever, pain, or something like it? Or, only a bit more...
Is this my very bedroom, my very life?
My dream?
My troubled awakening?
Is this all a part of another dream from which someone else hasn’t woken up? Yet?
No comments:
Post a Comment