THE INTIMATE DANCE


Slowly kindling as a well stroked fire

Eyes that hunger, fingers that caress,


as I untie the strands to your “dress”

.
We dance on words around the matter,


coming close, I play the actor


feigning disinterest, though I want you so.


You, the mistress, leading to and fro.


Who’s in control, I care not.


So long as were entwined as a knot.


Tossing ,turning, sheets askew


feeling, tasting every drop of you.

Popular posts from this blog

SINCE SEX GOT EASIER TO GET, LOVE GOT HARDER TO FIND

WHEN SHE KICKED HIS BALLS FILLED WITH MALE EGO....

IN THE BEGINNING WAS WORD