Passion spreads like body heat
across these sunken sheets,
while empty fingers drift through
soft locks of hair pooling like
mascara on a satin pillowcase.
‘Everything in here is black,’
the whisper reverberates back
into the silence of this throw.
My thighs wrap around your own
like a duvet blanketing lies, surely
waiting for this dreams demise,
your heart rumbles like thunder
beneath an iron cage of bone.
We’ve lost touch with time, the
naysayers condone our rhymes,
each and every one of our crimes,
but I, I’m willing to bet the strength
of our heat will be difficult to forget.