She makes me,
Happy,
a man of a different grain.

I sleep all around her, smelling of latex and hairspray and sweat. It's a good sweat, an earned musk, the scent of lust, compassion, companionship and genuine comfort. We are good together. Snug. Combustible.

Her eyes sparkle in the throes of an honest engagement... an affair of perspiration, magic, liquidity and languor.

Her eyes roll heavenward as she assumes a smile of diligent contentment, appreciative of efforts carried forth with veracity. Her expression glows, brightens, then fades into a dull luminescence: blue and pink and gold like fresh peaches cut and placed in sugarmilk...
Cradled, breathless from exertion, happy and amazed, willing to please and wanting to reciprocate -- never selfish, never solemn, we rake one another over skin bare, beautiful and bountiful.

The prize is this: In loving our predicament and longing to get back at any chance -- we achieve irrational cadences in exacting our lust.

I am infatuated, aloof, enamored nonetheless. This is a fatuous lust, hopefully lasting for a very long time . . . . .

Want to comment on this Poetry? Sign up to Edit Red and you will be able to comment on Poetry and get access to: Upload your own stories and poems, get readers and their feedback, promote your work...