Erotica at 2:00am
Just reposting an old poem I wrote back Sept 16, 2002. One of my favorites.
clash in a flurry of parries and kisses
besting one another in the hopes of savoring that last drop
of chocolate before it hits the table.
It never makes it down the glass
For our sweaty bodies, covered with scratches and kisses
and invisible prints left behind by our folding, fondling fingers,
has knocked it off the table
which has now become our bed.