Sunday, November 23, 2008



My rough hands across the satin of your back
last night.
The raspiness was incongruent. You moaned.

There were infinitesimal hairs before my lips
met your shoulders, that I kissed.
My spirit left –

You have redefined so much.

To leave or to continue.
My mind has never been so devoid of thought,
upon a subject.

© Ciprianowords Inc. 2008

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