Polychromatic

Time  
is cursive  
like a  
hand written  
love
letter  
in his  
running  
writing
that runs  
endlessly  
inked from  
back to front  
pages upon pages  
that span  
aeons  
drenched  
in his  
polychromatic  
auric field
and
our love  
notes  
audaciously  
framed  
cinematically  
crafted  
whimsically designed  
upon  
profanity  
that never  
sees  
the light  
of day  
softly whispered  
and
textured  
more like  
leather & lace  
raw yet soft
gasping  
breathlessly  
as his  
fingers  
plunder  
knuckle deep  
into my  
heavenly  
tight
portal
whilst his  
tongue  
swirls  
on my  
pulsating
cherry pink
lips
until  
I’m gushing  
and  
rushing  
towards his
tantric  
flow
to feel  
him  
launching  
deeper
until  
I’m gaping  
and  
cascading  
uncontrollably  
trembling  
violently  
as we  
lay  
tangled  
beneath  
shooting stars  
our limbs  
folded
magnetically  
draped
over one  
another’s
frame
whilst  
inscribing sacred
text
upon  
one another’s  
flesh like  
parables  
spoken in tongues  
we memorise  
until we  
see ourselves  
reflected  
in one  
another  
again  
and  
he says  
I am  
in awe  
of you  
whilst I giggle  
and  
tell him  
to shut up  
and  
fuck me  
over
like he  
did  
moments  
ago  
hips tilted  
playfully  
splayed  
the way  
he  
likes
structured  
with depth  
like a
deep  
red Pinot  
as the taste  
of his  
salty seed  
lingers  
upon my  
palate  
whilst he
whispers  
softly yet intently  
and  
I study  
his will  
to drill  
me  
hard & deep  
all over  
again  
just so  
he can  
watch me
ride  
his rocket
whilst
rocking  
my world  
for hours  
on end  
and  
when  
he crashes
parched  
I study  
the  
rise & fall  
of his  
chest  
aching  
for more
and  
he’ll be  
hard again  
in the  
morning  
I trust  
in that
much.