Still Wishing
Still wishing
Along the lines of fantasy
with crystal glasses flowing the brim
Soft hands would meet on white linen,
as your eyes take me places I have never been
Silence tingles while our hearts speak
across candle flame and glittered dreams
Such is the beauty of this night
neither belong, yet here we are
Fears generate passion
on this perfect evening so young,
and our love forbidden, taboo
but breathing of temptation
Lips ignite a fire within,
looking over shoulders for whoever
only finding desires calling
in the mist of the crowded city
Scented bliss finds me,
arms reach for a touch, long hot touch
behind closed doors
holding back all but the guilt
Still a fever burns as skin blushes
beneath moon lit intoxication
Silhouettes merge, moist in cravings
lone of simpler moments
Fingers dance and sighs sing,
satin sheets spill to unsuspecting floors
when deep in the throws is found,
words have no meaning
Whispers lose their bearing
as oceans part and white foam pleasure
caresses the smooth shore
on this uncharted island called love
Startled by the waiter refilling my glass
I still see you across the room
lingering in his smile, lost in his hypnotic gaze
and here I sit, still . . . wishing it were me
Good night Soupers
Copyright © Chris Green | Year Posted 2017
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