I.
We sneak off to indulge
In the moment.
My love and I steal away.
Giggling and clumsy,
To snatch glimpses
Into marital bliss.
We slow danced across the line
Clearly defined;
Grooving to Nat King Cole’s
Sophisticated crooning.
I staggered through
My conscience
So that I may tell you
In a grown up way,
That I love you more than
I am ready for.
Mimicking a look I saw mother give father,
I run a delicate toe coyly
Across the line….
…momentarily
caring less about the manner set for my feet
to walk in.
Tonight,
I could no longer stifle the mature woman’s bellow
Coming from underneath my belly,
Nor the cry from her womb.
So, I dared follow her nature
For a while (as best I could),
And responded to the grown man
Accent in you.
Dormant desire
Met with inexplicable zeal.
A pair of hips and hands meet,
And music was made.
And so we slow danced across the line,
Moving in our own inelegant,
But destined,
rhythm.
II.
I figured as much.
We were actually
Mesmerized by sensations
Due to the taste of my breast
And the firmness of your flesh.
Throughout moments of honorable torment,
As we began to
Slow dance across the line,
You could not stop thinking of
How good it’s going to feel inside.
And I just wanted to feel beautiful again... inside.
It all
Still
Leads back to you and I,
Making us selfish lovers.
I love you
And you, me
But
It’s a plus
That I desire to give parts of me
And
That these parts belong to me,
So we pretend to belong to one another.
Lovely, isn’t it?
It’s no fault of yours, my love.
This is what happens when
We slow dance to our parents’ mood music.
Possibly,
We gravitate onto territory
That we explicitly desire,
But
Are not yet prepared for.
Maybe I should wait
Until we’ve realized that
You make love to my soul
And connect to my spirit
First,
Before I give in to you again.
