When I think about us, its so rarely the act of interactions of our flesh.
Nor the feat of finding the parts of ourselves that make one moan.
It has never been the performance of pleasures I have sought out dear.
Always the look of just after on your face, that finds me fascinated.
My fingertips sliding up and down the curve of hip, and edge of lips.
I see clear the look of exhaustion and a deep desire to want me forever.
No deed undone, the anticipation over and we sink into a comfort.
Bliss; if you will, too subtle to salivate over and too hard to ever forget.
It is always that moment when we talk of nothing and much more.
That smile finds my parts that burn within my chest; you belong here.
No need to create a moment of passion as those will come, bounteous.
Furthermore its never been about the pursuit of being with you in bed.
I have only longed for the part where you fall asleep and in love with me.
© Jeph Rants
No comments:
Post a Comment