A chronicle of the misadventures of a would be writer

Monday, October 25, 2010


I felt shy,
But it was shed
With the last pieces 
Of our clothing.
My body ached;
Excitement humming
From every single pore.
And then your mouth
Closed upon mine,
Your breath
Reminding me of
Charcoal and stale bread.
But the distraction 
Of your hands
On my breast
Helped in the
Getting used to.
Our tongues and fingers
Meshed, wandered,
Explored, wondered
And then you entered
Your stab, the pain 
Shattering my ecstasy
Though only momentarily.
Our breaths and sighs
All tangled again
And soon it was over.
We quickly dressed,
I brushed my hair
And we left.
Nothing had changed
Except perhaps
That once spotless

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