In Secret
I perceive her as fire, not too smokey,
But glossed enough to burn my desire
Of illicit pleasure to fill empty pathways
Isolated by glass, guarded by egg shells
Only the waves know this rapture,
Only the stars hear loud groans,moans.
Although the warmth or heat is rented,
My own misery or despair erased
As her thighs waxes on mine, slow
Then fast in the restless grind of hours;
We take little drops of wine
Before sunlight begins to rise over sheets
Crumbled by dusky lust, maybe an ounce of love--
She, draped in mannequin's thin wrap
Is delicate and tough with a heart
Unavailable for constant ardor---how could
Her past release all those silent wails?
And while I button her second-hand dress
Our next rendezvous is done, again--again
The comfort of a lifeless marriage
Allayed by the harlot of my nights.
Controversial Contest---Charlotte Jade Puddifoot
Sept 8, 2015
Copyright © Henry W | Year Posted 2015
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