Nights only the Winter Remembers

the art & the canvas

the startled succulence of bottom lip
that hangs a tad bit lower than what your upper lips allows
the saliva it syrups
the small callow breathes during the same pause savaging upon a steady beat
as our eyes meet at a consensual equilibrium
the scrambled slurring of moans and begs
that are interrupted by gasp of air
teeth and tongue learning to take turns on skin that becomes rawer than honey
slight biting of the lips like we are ready to make a feast upon each other's remains even after the orgasm
the raw glorified bodies
making applause to the rhythm
of whatever is playing in the back ground
hips playing the snare drum
in obedience to the conductor of a quivering clitoris
In a stadium
Big enough for our irresponsibilities and youth
- i'm fucking you tonight