Scent of Truth

     
     
     
     
     
     
He could sense my love on fire    
even before he inhales the smoke    
intimacy ablaze trying to suppress intensity      
never to inflame, but to keep it burning….    
keep him yearning      
while observing the sweltering bit of sparkle    
adopting his carbonated space.    
Lust grabs hold    
the need unfold    
and all that is needed is    
a French kiss to steal my breath,    
the only time I’m content with no air.    
I can feel his stare,      
he can smell my need    
succumbing to every single dirty deed    
choking on his girth      
trying to suck out his seeds, of life....    
He gives me life,    
every, single, time    
our bodies commune in its organic forms    
and hush moans slip through parted lips      
seducing an atmosphere unrehearsed for our cries.    
I cry….    
sweet n salty tears decorate my inner thighs    
mesmerized by the way he dance between my limbs,    
He’s owning his rhythm while my body heaves in hymn    
tasting each other’s wet fingertips with    
the scent of truth still cloaked securely,    
knitted to acme on wrinkled satin sheets    
soaked with third and fourth comings….    
     
Rain~