Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
Sunset Man Sep 2017
Corner hidden
in the bin downstairs
that museums my
memento-ed souvenirs
is a black and white
treasured strip,
15 year woman dawned
captured
stills from an arcade
booth
too many
years removed.

Whimsy sought
dug frustrated "where?"
epiphany  alas
triumphant exhale
freeing and
holding again
your filmed teen
face in fingered tips
reminiscing how
I breathed you then.

Sweet lips
invitingly posed
four visions of a
beautiful youth
pageantly shared,
I momentarily
danced
reincarnating
that fleeting
summer's day.

Musings molt
whispered her
perfectly prime now
intimately sure
lips sweet
15 matured 51
desired conclusively
each I love
each I loved. . .
Sunset Man Sep 2017
One kiss, two
all the more to feel the fall
pulled passion in
the taste
of her mouth, teeth, lips, spit, tongue.
one, two, more
I ran my tongue into her as she did me
with the frantic need
to ingest a part of each other
my tongue searched in her flavor and I
swallowed and wanted more
What was it now, nine kisses?
and I already could not get enough
of her into me.

She ****** my tongue
my mouth with her's and
let me feed from her
the taste of her
inside me, swallowing
easy to savor, that taste ALL unique
all hers and needing more
all of me joining ranks
forming that more-perfect
union of want.
Nine kisses with her and
I readied to taste her blood
run away cold
grow old
marry
****, breed, honor, punish
love, hold, bathe, force, give.

Obsession is a
powerful word
a disease of the brain
but nine kisses
her kisses, sexed kisses and kissing
and I had no disease
of anyone's analysis
my body moving along on auto
my mind rational but falling
needing to push to pull to feel
to be absorbed all by her
the drive to the
act of procreation,
recreation, loving, *******
normal desire, frantic need
to push in,
open up
mix.

Obsession?
Or rather chemical emulsions,  
******
response
to the right
nine kisses.
Sunset Man Sep 2017
Just a week ago tomorrow
we stole those precious minutes
in that loft-room
jailed hideaway.

Months of fevered anticipation
preparation, perspiration
cunning and crimes
to get me back inside you.

Doors locked stories straight
what-if bases covered
to have few mystic memories
you were solely mine.

Escape from our tribes
momentary melting us
perfect pose perfect pause
until you slip away.

I covet the first through fifth
the post euphoric float
but the sixth day weakens
spinning down into dirt.

The empty settles back
the separation cements 'till
imprisoned ache's extrication
brings my love again.
Sunset Man Sep 2017
Poetry is pain
and love
unveiled
diversions of
deep dreaded
rhapsody dark
sprinkled
poly chromatic
rainbow shades of
blue suede
hearts.

Sweet jeweled
dashed
frenzied eyes
anchored
damaging
and lilted
ballroom dance
destinations.

Poetry bleeds
every hue
lands
every floor
to the penthouse
love, the
sweeping stair
stepped climb.

In you
and your's
blended smooth
your love
your light
your dark
hidden sheltered
within me,
we are poetry
together
mixed.
Sunset Man Sep 2017
We had just kicked
up the foreplay
in our spun
lush groove
when she paused
and panted
a ticklish plea:

"What is it I do,
my love,
after all our
long years,
that still
so firmly turns
you on?"

"Ah sweet lover..."
my exhaled reply
"it's not what you do
it's the fact it is YOU
in this bed with me"
Sunset Man Sep 2017
The breath fell out of the moon
hushed the feral fear
abandoning the shallow
solo decorum
for the mixed glass
now to be served, shared.
Your words tossed true
this night
drunk-sleepily spun
lute sweetly to my ears
"I love you" impulsively uttered
exposed, unfiltered
staggered me in balanced bliss.

— The End —