[untitled] (Recurring Dreams; Interlude #3)
i spread your lips
my tongue grazes your love bump
i feel your passion. warm on my face at first
then it dries.
my lust is rock hard
it surveys it's landscape before
making an entrance,
a grand entrance.
the sweet nothings.
hands grazing over skin
the tiny hairs that rise
dead skin flakes
and flows to the wind.
on this, our day.
the sea kisses the nape of land
where hips meet hips;
spines arched in the sand.
children play at the seas breath
before being carried away
by the wind. on this, our day.
the sweat beads catch on the tiny, tiny hairs on your stomach
the kiss marks on my navel.
from where they have burrowed into the ground.
tiny grains of sand clump together
and part at the wave of your hair
as you sit up,
gripping your legs to your chest,
holding your feet by the soles.
we sip wine as the day ends.
the cancerous skin turns bronze and dies,
thrown to the wind, as we grow old.