watching lightening rip through the tenebrous sky, anger-filled thunder scorns the midnight hour. We only came here to watch... to breathe in cool night air.
I couldn't distinguish the shock of your touch from the wave of currents striking the window of this sundance crossing the blackened sky.
A feather-touch: my lips, your lips, ours; soft, seductive shivers. Touches so electric, we were unaware of the youth-filled dodge gunning towards the embankment... teen kisses, too innocent.
(They see our mirror image.)
In excited jolts, like those of lightening raging through the mountains, we seek refuge to thrill-seek the precarious union we are.
All poetry under the names Lori Carlson or Iona Nerissa are the sole property of Lori Carlson. Please seek permission before using any of my writings. ~Lori Carlson~