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Not Quite Unseen

Moist and monochrome, clouds are gathering

On a Sunday afternoon.

Look up idly from my browsing, at the building 'cross the pool

Winds picks up, the monsoon breezes

Lick at the curtains twelve floors up

On the terrace, woman standing

Arms outstretched, grasp the rail

 

Legs stressed back, footloose in sandal

Lightly muscled, slightly formed

Kimono slips from lighted shoulder, designer ****** strawberry brown

Fabric glides across the hip-line

Revealing all to me below

Wearing nothing on the landing

Hint of shadow, ***** mound.

 

From the sliding doors behind her

Steps a man not quite unseen

Waist encircled in one movement, undergarment stripped away

Rigid stillness then the thrusting

Tension mounting at the breath

Woman gasps the O shape forming

Through her silent, varnished lips

 

Mahler moaning on the ITunes

Waves are forming, silent sound

Thrusting, busting, flexing, ******* arching back crescendo reached

Sun comes out, just at that moment

Roads diverging in the wood

Disconnecting, and uncoupling

Might and maybe, aught and should

 

Trembling  fingers, taught in temper

Blink the eye and pop the top

Shaking hands that hold the taper, to the unformed smoking spliff

**** the wreaths in, breathe the thought out

Bottle clinks across the teeth

Unbelieving, unconcealing

Unrelieving, unreleased

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j
Written by
j-wallace-larwood
Published
Apr 23, 2013
Lines·Words
35·204
Notes

To those that inquired: pure if unintentional voyeurism. It happened rather quicker than the verses indicate; I'm not sure I could have looked away even if I'd chosen to. Intensity is always compelling! They say that 'character is how you behave when no-one else is watching'. Not sure what that says about them. And about me...

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