PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

I tucked my hands into the small of your back

and nestled my face into my palms.

I slowed my breathing to match yours

so that when we exhaled

I felt as though I fell inside you.



            "Move with me."



And I inhaled so you would float below me;

it's amazing how erotic breathing can be

when we synchronize the rise and fall of our chests.



An ocean breeze blew through the window,

tickling my spine and leaving a trail of erect papillae

as it played it's way to my hair,

sticky with sweat (you warm us both).

The cicadas sang a lulling tune

that filled the room with background music.



            "Baby, you're shivering."



No, silly -

their call is a lonely one

and they're searching for a lover.

So I always cringe when I hear a locust cry.



Sometimes I wonder what keeps you from weeping;

I watched you as your eyes clouded over and threatened rain.

I assumed you always drifted off to some other place

because you felt so alone in reality.



             "When I start singing,

              you'll know what we have is over.

              Besides, how could I be lonesome

              when I'm with the one who has kept me

              alive?"



Never once did I help your heart beat

or cure you of internal suffering.

If you had stopped breathing,

I would have held my breath to correspond.



            "Then I'll breathe for you."