His mouth is like plush violets. As I watch him go down on me, Opal stardust falls on my face. I plant my own sins in my ribs. I am exhausted on this exodus of ecstasy. I am strung up on his eyelashes.
He is the oval window in my ear. He is the whirlwind in my lungs. He is the fiery filament, Burning my breast raw.
I am soaring on heady heights, As our tongues are rapidly-rapid
Through the summer night.
Poem: Naomi Ruth Saharski W. Photo: Pinterest