Poetry

Open

She opens me up like the warmth of spring to a tulip. It had taken a long time to start crying again; since almost dying in the snow.

I melt. It feels so good when it happens, and we make love. We sweat and squeeze. Taste each other. Feel the other’s curves with our hands and hips.

It is reciprocal, unashamed and passionate. If she was heated but I was not, she wouldn’t press.

It is hushed and playful. Afterward, we clean each other, the bed invites back and we lay.

Our beings bask in each other’s glow like binary stars.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s