(12/11/60 / Danbury, CT USA)

A Storm Without Thorns

1
Ice-rain pounds windows.
Branches dance against cold wind-sky scratching two-pane glass.
I, huddled naked-pretending under blankets of remembering
you, softening life.

2
Our bodies hugged in visceral elation.
Again, I'm wrapped-in your pulled-back, braided-up hair,
mocha-brown eyes, smiles you just couldn't hide and your
"hold me closer, all-night" princess cries!
You, Drew hot, humid breath on my neck hairs in
patterns that wiggle-round to my hard, waiting
nipples where you gather all of me, arched-wet, into your warm, full mouth.
We, felt surrender waltzing deeper into this offensive embrace.

3
Sensual teacher, unzipping my coats of Armor, truth lies hushed and hungry beneath this
skin on skin wet when everywhere-within a smoldering heat sends this brave Soldier
into attention goose-bumps
running wild like the candle-light sprinting her slithering designs
up those white walls,
those naked
curling toes claiming calf contours as far as I could go and she giggles,
casting trust off to the dim hours we should be sleeping;
she,
gives-way.

4
Our "red flags" are weaker than our hunger will succumb to.
Even blood-red roses, holding-on to life with the power of my wanting from which they were sent, refuse
to die -
We, are certain of our lustful influence!
Together, we are the rose without thorns,
the visceral storm as outside weather pounds
against the panes.

© Reneé Marie

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