The Chopin piece played
still pays in my head
as I kiss her shoulder,
soft, hard, my lips
brushing, moving in,
my tongue tasting,
snake like.

She enfolds me
with her arms,
her hands on my back,
holding me there,
capturing me lest
I seek escape(as if),
her hands, fingers
run upon my skin.

Far off, voices,
laughter, coming back
from the hotel restaurant,
late hours;
we engaged
in love making,
uncaring, dismissing.

Lips kiss her neck,
touch, brush, wet,
sensual; I move my hand
along her thigh;
watch her eyes open wide,
her mouth forming
a small O and moving
into harbour the small O
becomes more oval
as if to swallow whole.

I loved the Chopin
Abela whispers
such a soft touch.

Mmm,
I say,
so good, so much.