22 May 2010

new composition

tender, the tips of your fingers graze the curves of my jawline
and crawl, parallel with silent slides of sweat, down my neck and rest lightly
on my shoulders before

slipping under my shirt sleeves and softly undraping me,
as you compose the first notes of our new night's duet.

as my fists clench tightly, your hands' sordino strides along my skin meet
my collectively crippled limbs and you lay me down and lull me,
with tempts of tongue-touching-tongue and breaths-setting-over-curves,
into a let-loose-and-love-it mood
and the beat starts off slow.

your pulse throbs thicker than other undertones
and the tempo keeps steady while your lips, licked, sneak down, heavy and
tantalizing, teasing me slow and easy,
adagio.
you and I, one in the same, l'istesso,
lock legs and press warm skin to warm skin and the rhythm picks up as

my palms sink into your back and
your fingers trace a damp-dotted-line of sweat beads to
the thin line of stitched seams separating you and me.

and again, our pace, allegro, grows quicker with each note played louder
forte, and with each beat hit firmer, and
the score, all parts showing, enlivens our music to a symphony con brio
as our bodies flow together in a heat-struck harmony
through the steam-ridden air encompassing us.

con moto, our pounding exhalations move closer to each other
until brilliantly,
the intervals become smallest,
half-step,
breath, half-step,
breath, and again, half-step,
we breathe in unison and crash, as one, into our climactic rush
and we hold our strongest urge longer than needed,
fermata, and then let it go

and our breaths slow down, legato, smooth,
as you conduct this piece to descend to a rest with

one beat of silence,
quarter, and another beat,
silence, until we reach our grand pause and we both
stop.

suddenly, subito, our new night instructs our silence with an unsaid
"tacet," and we wait to play, again, our sordid song, dolce.

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