by Adam Sifre
Remain in repose, a little longer.
Let the world fade, background to my distraction.
Your bare legs, gifted and displayed for me,
their strange gravity, drives me to my knees.
My breath, close, caressing just above the knees.
Did you shiver?
I thought
I thought I saw
I thought I saw them part —
an offering.
There is a quickening of breath,
a crop of goose bumps,
an invitation.
My lips brush, lightly touch,
they land and take flight.
Somewhere, far away, I hear a gasp,
soft, yet strong enough.
My mouth lands again, retreats.
I am rewarded with a sigh
and the smallest parting.
And then,
And then my illusion of self control
of control
destroyed by a sigh.
And I lose myself, in your rediscovered territory.
With hungry lips and trembling hands,
I claim you for my own.
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Poetry is foreplay.
Zounds. (that's two in one feed) *