Curve

A/N: So this is probably from 2006-2007. Again another unfinished poem…I need water…*ahem*

The feel of velvet skin etches its way into memory,
already overloaded with sounds of her moans,
the taste of salt that beads along her neck
and the sight of her head thrown back, panting.
The beat of her heart pounding against her chest
dances like a phantom under my hand.
I dare not close my eyes,
for this memory is as fleeting as her breath
when she whispers my name,
begging for me to release her.
Beauty as this
has long been forgotten from our collective thoughts
until someone dares to stop the frame,
and remembers.
How the curve of her back was taught, bowing against me,
as my hand trails down, cupping firm cheeks,
as her legs wrap around me, pulling me closer,
as our hearts are beating against each other,
as if they already knew the score to the songs
gasped into our ears.
Tanned skin against pale contrast softly
against black sheets that have tangled around us…

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