Crescendo
Flannels warms the soft skin behind,
the silk topper brushes chin ward.
The air hangs heavy with the scent of lavender
and all is as it should be by moonlight.
Honeyed beams strike silver tendrils
tossed upon a pillow case.
Bhram's laces the sultry air.
Dark chocolate covers my tongue and lips
Chianti flows between breathes
and the night rises with upthrust hips
to crescendo in the the dark.
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