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.

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