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.
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….