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Raina Powers Jul 2017
A cool sheet lies beneath us,
A cooler blanket on top.
With a soft, dim blue light,
See you I cannot.

Silence floats though the air
Like strolling dust particles.
Nighttime is more fair
With removed fabric-articles.

The temperature is uneven,
Cloth and skin beside me.
Slow is your breathing,
Which warms the heart inside me.

I pull you closer to me,
My soft ******* against your bare back.
The exhausted rhythm of your own chest
Is unusually messed, but not attacked.

Feeling selfish and somewhat confident,
My hand ventures underneath your shirt.
From you to me, consent is prominent
And I know by this you'd not be hurt.

Your small belly is warm and comforting,
In the same way you think I am.
You like my stuttering and ****** coloring,
And it's all brought on by your hand.

I recall a night we shared together,
Our first night at that,
When your fingers grazed across my cheeks
And I played copycat.

My face heated in remembering you.
Even as you are still with me,
The tame memory still plays through.
It's with you I want to always be.

A strike of electricity lit up my spine
As you turned to me, making me alert.
Your eyes are open, our hands intertwined,
You had grabbed my hand from underneath your shirt.

"Morning, my love," you spoke,
As your hand my fingers stroked.
I replied,"It's turning to one in the morning."
You smiled a smile so warming, so charming.

You placed your forehead against mine.
God, I'm so glad were alive.
Some lines I want to recite,
But a thriving sight returns tonight.

"I love you."

"I love you more."

"I love you most."

"*****, you ******* wish."
Raina Powers Jul 2017
I saw a common spider climbing up a string of its web
It pulled the anchor, detached the line, destroying its old work
To create a better, more useful web for a new time

This prolific silk-spinner spends much time perfecting her lines
Forming, editing, redoing, and replacing the pieces
Line after line, web after web, often disregarded

Until it no longer satisfies her needs and she begins
Another greatly ambitious work of great care and juncture
That will highlight a beauty the world might've overlooked
Raina Powers Jul 2017
That dripping, supple supply
Of delicious, drooling saliva
Keeps my soft lips parting awry
And my pulsing lips alive
Raina Powers Jul 2017
A young man bent over a pond
Of which he was obsessively fond
And he lowered his head
To get a drink from her bed

He lapped up the water with his tongue
His eyes were open, his head was hung
And water came rushing into the pond
As he drank it continued to spawn

When he felt that his thirst was quenched
And his fists by his side were excitedly clenched
He lifted his head, sitting by her shore
The pouring water rushing no more.

— The End —