A Storm Without Thorns
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.
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.
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,
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;
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