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deepundergroundpoetry.com
THESE ARE THE MOMENTS AFTER
These are the moments after we make love of a night that is turning slowly but surely to day.
No need to hurry to go out anywhere, just to linger in each other's arms, our naked bodies resting against each other's. No need to dress for an early morning, we left the working week behind yesterday afternoon when we drove to the hotel, feeling nothing was going to stop us now, on Cloud Nine before we got on to Seventh Heaven......
Against the 'white' tones of my torso your Eurasian darkness of skin and hair contrasts, as befitting a woman from the homeland of the Kama Sutra. I imagine a sitar playing in the background, serenading us to one or other of those tunes you introduced me to when we went to that Shankar tribute concert.
Your eyes are closed in the sleep of the satisfied, your head, cradled in my left arm, resting into the crook of my left shoulder, your left arm reaching around me onto my right shoulder while my right hand caresses that arm with awe and wonder at the smoothness of skin. Your face is so peaceful as you breath in and out. In that moment I bask in the implicit trust you have in me as your partner, which I don't want to betray with anyone else.
Your fine hips are astride me, your body shielding my male modesty which a few hours ago you were not so modestly enjoying as we filled the room with our heavy breaths and ecstatic utterances, as you rocked upon my tool for your delight and I cupped your gently swaying breasts.... (I wonder if that famous temple has a statue of a couple in the position we are now lying.)
The sunlight of dawn seeps through the blinds, lighting up our bodies upon the bed, whose sheets got thrown off in last night's rampancy, it seems like the touch of God upon our relationship, signalling His blessing on us.
I want to wake you, so you can see this sunlight, and into your now sleeping eyes tell you that everything - you (in face, body and heart), this moment in time, our love - is BEAUTIFUL, to thank you (oh, that Dido song is coming up in my mind) for becoming so intimately part of my life, sharing what only you can give me and taking on board my seed of perhaps a new life to come from our bodies, made in interracial love.
No need to hurry to go out anywhere, just to linger in each other's arms, our naked bodies resting against each other's. No need to dress for an early morning, we left the working week behind yesterday afternoon when we drove to the hotel, feeling nothing was going to stop us now, on Cloud Nine before we got on to Seventh Heaven......
Against the 'white' tones of my torso your Eurasian darkness of skin and hair contrasts, as befitting a woman from the homeland of the Kama Sutra. I imagine a sitar playing in the background, serenading us to one or other of those tunes you introduced me to when we went to that Shankar tribute concert.
Your eyes are closed in the sleep of the satisfied, your head, cradled in my left arm, resting into the crook of my left shoulder, your left arm reaching around me onto my right shoulder while my right hand caresses that arm with awe and wonder at the smoothness of skin. Your face is so peaceful as you breath in and out. In that moment I bask in the implicit trust you have in me as your partner, which I don't want to betray with anyone else.
Your fine hips are astride me, your body shielding my male modesty which a few hours ago you were not so modestly enjoying as we filled the room with our heavy breaths and ecstatic utterances, as you rocked upon my tool for your delight and I cupped your gently swaying breasts.... (I wonder if that famous temple has a statue of a couple in the position we are now lying.)
The sunlight of dawn seeps through the blinds, lighting up our bodies upon the bed, whose sheets got thrown off in last night's rampancy, it seems like the touch of God upon our relationship, signalling His blessing on us.
I want to wake you, so you can see this sunlight, and into your now sleeping eyes tell you that everything - you (in face, body and heart), this moment in time, our love - is BEAUTIFUL, to thank you (oh, that Dido song is coming up in my mind) for becoming so intimately part of my life, sharing what only you can give me and taking on board my seed of perhaps a new life to come from our bodies, made in interracial love.
Published 4th Aug 2018
| Edited 5th Aug 2018
Author's Note
Inspired by Lyrically Inclined's Post Coital and the accompanying picture.
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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5th Aug 2018 3:15am
Thank you, although the description of attributes that characterises the Song of Solomon is less eloquent I am glad something of its spirit can be discerned.
The woman in the Song, described as a Shunamite, may well have been one of Solomon's 'many strange women' (in Jewish POV) he had as suitors if not as partners (wife or concubine), thus an interracial relationship also.
The woman in the Song, described as a Shunamite, may well have been one of Solomon's 'many strange women' (in Jewish POV) he had as suitors if not as partners (wife or concubine), thus an interracial relationship also.
Anonymous
- Edited 16th Sep 2018 4:45pm
11th Aug 2018 4:32am
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