butter from blood -

“kiss me” you whisper softly then blush … at least it SEEMS so cheeks of a subtle crimson glow you - reclining on white the yawning waffle-weave towel spread on cooling sand your tawny hair weaving its way off the edge, twining the dune grass … your eyes are clamped a coy, expectant smile joining dimples waiting for a tender press of lips I lean over to oblige but stop … for the red on your face is not as I thought - it’s the ruby glow of a just-risen moon reflecting, magnified, off the sea hazy sky set ablaze … “and here I thought it was passion”, I say “daubing your face, I mean” “that bloody ol’ moon”, you answer eyes still shut, giggling … you pull me to you our lips soft-dancing - tongues tasting then deeper … I lose myself in you - our kiss diving down, warming the whole world becomes our mouths your taste, mixed with salt air is completely sublime like some divine potion intoxicating me - time, breaths, thoughts, urge passionate chaos … I open my eyes your face is still flushed but THIS time I know it’s ardor … for time has passed the air now, much cooler moon creeping higher - no longer the vivid cherry that had dusted your face but a bright, round, pad of butter melting the stars dripping their tender magic to splash your skin with gold … “so … passion after all”, I say gently lips brushing yours “shhhhhh!”, you hush “that ol’ moon … don’t waste it!” you press your mouth to mine and I dive down again into the warm … chaos ( created form “Bookend Free Verse” )