Refraction.

Clovette XXVIII

By candlelight does she wait,
Sat upon our bed.
Raven hair caresses ivory shoulders;
She is covered by nothing else.
From the rose petals at my feet,
I look up -
Those shapely legs, thighs so soft,
The gentle dip within those beautiful hips,
Her waist, upon which my hands rest
As though it is the most natural
Place they could possibly be.
There is nothing to say - her eyes are alight,
Demanding satisfaction:
She knows I could never deny her.
I am enchanted, ensnared: her legs wrapped
Around my waist, she pulls me closer,
Putting my hands to her heavenly breasts.
We have done this before,
But the wonder doesn't seem to fade -
I am eternally ravenous for her,
Relishing in the rediscovery of those
Little sounds that she makes, of how she begins
With such hubris, how it melts away.
Each quiet gasp, fingernails puncturing
My back, my shoulders, my soul,
Once again. Time is nothing, nor is money,
And pain is nothing but pleasure here.
The taste of her lips - no memory could do it justice,
So sweet as to turn a man feral.
Sangria-coloured lipstick smudged across
Both our faces, the bedding - the world, it seems,
Until the candles are burning low.
In that dwindling sunset, I may bask in her splendour
Once again - the dying light contrasts so perfectly with
That raven hair, and how wonderfully it glimmers
In her eyes. The warm hue of her skin;
It seems I know such a small fraction of her beauty,
And thus we must go again.