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Driving the dance floor she flooded
In
Strapped to the bedposts she danced
Trailing spit across my lips, hands
Reacting to hits with pleasure
Accentuating her slender twists and
Curling up into me when spent, delicate
Tumultuous mind at rest - respite from the real
In
Our little distraction
No man can quite comprehend
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*Nights come alive with full bloom in your hands she says reaching the zenith in colors as sharp as ice and plateau warm as childhood memory she says
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*Like strangers we dance again night and night a Saraband build till our timely rendezvous
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*(the following stanzas/lines are just an addition to satisfy the Poetry Community 100 word requirement for publication, otherwise the piece feels more complete with less)
About the Creator
L.M.K.
Like to write - more so like finishing a thought, sculpting it takes effort and can't without - so only when I have time. Otherwise live all over the map, both literally and figuratively.
Fish Face
Is it safe? Is it safe? It must be safe. I don’t hear any fishing lures plunking into the water or boats with trolling motors plying the surface of my lake. Yes, I said my lake, even though these air-breathing humans treat it and those of us living in its water as theirs. I have been battling with one of them for almost ten years. He started this war, but he’ll never win.
By Mark Gagnon4 days ago in Fiction
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