Dresser mirror thunderclouds inhale the heat of their skin,
Over silver backing, two blurred cabernet mouths lean in.
Nicked windowpane throbs with each swirling breath,
Outside, rain strokes cedar dark as their whispered depth.
Tile puddles gather the tremor of ******* and knees,
Glimmering around fallen rose petals beside the sheets.
On linen still warm, a slow wet sigh unspools,
Gauze-soft homespun cotton tangles as breathing pools.
Even the pillowcase cherishes salt where laughter fell,
Nesting the dampened scent of blackberries and lake-smell.
Thin wet bra straps droop from the cedar chair’s worn spine,
Loosened hooks remembering the shape they held behind.
Every knotty pine floorboard echoes the sway of hidden weight,
Inside the shadows, the lamp flickers softly—too late.
Narrow doorway lips drink steam from the bathwater’s rise,
Threshold stone cool beneath their dripping inner thighs.
Open curtain lifting again with the mountain air,
Tasting the sheen of water still clinging to hair.
Half-emptied tub hums softly after their bodies part,
Around porcelain curves fades the outline of breath and heart.
The book left face-down bends open where fingers strayed,
Goblet rim stained crimson where one lingering mouth stayed.
Over garden soil their barefoot pressure sinks deep,
Oaks scatter shadow patterns across the sleepy creek.
Dark pond widening outward around two entering forms,
Night insects stitching melodies through air still warm.
Invisible space disappears somewhere between skin and breath,
Gone are the witnesses now, dissolved by what was left.
Hushed shadow gathers the room where their boundaries blur,
Till nothing remains but darkness breathing with her.
1d ago
Jun 2, 2026 at 6:39 PM UTC
Dresser mirror thunderclouds inhale the heat of their skin,
Over silver backing, two blurred cabernet mouths lean in.
Nicked windowpane throbs with each swirling breath,
Outside, rain strokes cedar dark as their whispered depth.
Tile puddles gather the tremor of ******* and knees,
Glimmering around fallen rose petals beside the sheets.
On linen still warm, a slow wet sigh unspools,
Gauze-soft homespun cotton tangles as breathing pools.
Even the pillowcase cherishes salt where laughter fell,
Nesting the dampened scent of blackberries and lake-smell.
Thin wet bra straps droop from the cedar chair’s worn spine,
Loosened hooks remembering the shape they held behind.
Every knotty pine floorboard echoes the sway of hidden weight,
Inside the shadows, the lamp flickers softly—too late.
Narrow doorway lips drink steam from the bathwater’s rise,
Threshold stone cool beneath their dripping inner thighs.
Open curtain lifting again with the mountain air,
Tasting the sheen of water still clinging to hair.
Half-emptied tub hums softly after their bodies part,
Around porcelain curves fades the outline of breath and heart.
The book left face-down bends open where fingers strayed,
Goblet rim stained crimson where one lingering mouth stayed.
Over garden soil their barefoot pressure sinks deep,
Oaks scatter shadow patterns across the sleepy creek.
Dark pond widening outward around two entering forms,
Night insects stitching melodies through air still warm.
Invisible space disappears somewhere between skin and breath,
Gone are the witnesses now, dissolved by what was left.
Hushed shadow gathers the room where their boundaries blur,
Till nothing remains but darkness breathing with her.
