Friday, 28 November 2014

And the music played

Oh do you remember, do you remember
The last time we made love
The moonlight pooling like spilled milk
On the bedroom floor?

Do you remember the murmurs and gasps from our lips
Hands together, fingers twining
Soft kisses growing hard in the urgency of the fire
Growing, leaping inside –

Do you remember?

Perhaps you would rather not remember
Perhaps you would forget everything from those days
Those nights.

But I have those memories
Of your eyes opening wide
As the waves of pleasure bore you cresting
Taking your breath away,
I remember floating with you
Up to the stars.

The moonlight lay on the floor
Sliding pool of light and shadow

And we were far away
Swimming in bliss
Among the stars.

The shudder of your orgasm
Like a dam breaking
Pouring forth the liquid fire
Trapped inside.

And we lay together, 
Floating down.

The returning was bliss, only because
We would go up again.

The wind was warm through the window
The night played in your night-black hair
That time.

And our music played for us
Heard by us alone.

Copyright B Purkayastha 2014


1 comment:

Full comment moderation is enabled on this site, which means that your comment will only be visible after the blog administrator (in other words, yours truly) approves it. The purpose of this is not to censor dissenting viewpoints; in fact, such viewpoints are welcome, though it may lead to challenges to provide sources and/or acerbic replies (I do not tolerate stupidity).

The purpose of this moderation is to eliminate spam, of which this blog attracts an inordinate amount. Spammers, be warned: it takes me less time to delete your garbage than it takes for you to post it.