I climbed the high mountains
of her body  tip by fingertip
and slithered down valleys moist and melting
under slow slides
along smooth beautiful buttons
until I stopped and caressed sighs that
slipped and silked
into memories of magic.

The alphabets I read were sheer poetry
unspoken and unvoiced
of its own beauty
as I ran the rose red petals across
pink and petulant lips to be kissed
and cuddled as we joined forces
as strong and sensitive
as our closed eyes.

As we lay back looking into nothing
but our own darkness, sensing a pulse,
a rapid heartbeat, a stifled sob of satisfaction
did I realise that we were made to feel with our fingers
and speak with our haunting skins and kisses
our own beauties hidden within and open
to the touchtone sensations
of our minds.

This was the way it was meant to be
my love. It will be.
We hold our secrets inside ourselves.
© Marshall Gass. All rights reserved.