There is no sweeter sound,
than my breath,
held hostage,
captured amidst,
a need unfolding.

Eyes gone to lust,
soft lids flutter,
as passion's kaleidoscope,
colors my darkness.

Slender neck flinches,
lips part so lightly,
warm breath spreading,
telegraphing secrets,
of soft stolen kisses.

Soft breast's swell,
arching back moves cat like,
globes framing,
bursting buds of rose.

Arms stretch upward,
pushed high overhead,
fingers curl around nothing,
looking for leverage,
to push back at desire.

Pace comes now quickly,
silken thighs spread,
coaxing lips and tongue to linger,
succulent velvet folds,
hug my perfect pearl,
then render pure nectar.

Urgent cries of passion,
requesting completion,
hips swivel and quiver,
running unleashed

racing toward perfection,
straining for oneness,
overcome by ecstasy,
with satisfaction's arrival.

Wrapped in exhaustion,
there is no sweeter sound,
than my breath,
held hostage,
released by your giving.

by Eila Mahima Jaipaul

Comments (1)

Amazing how a romantic such as he could live in ill repute hi genuis surely warranted a literary salute your sketch of him will stir some thought about greatness and its price where warmth of heart can die quickly and feel like artic Ice I enjoyed your write julia I will surely like to read more of you