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By wistful Date: 2002 Sep 19 Comment on this Work [[2002.09.19.22.16.20040]] |
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In the dark he comes to me, Whispering his passion to awaken mine. Slowly, his fingers brush my skin, softly, softly, and more chilling than the evening breeze that billows as the night begins. Each movement extends the night in ever-widening gyres of ever-heightening pleasure/pain. Tasting his salty sweat-stained flesh I'm blinded by the maddening rush, Eyes and hands clenched tight with strain. I have never seen my lover, Yet he is more vividly portrayed than any man swaggering in my sight On the sunlit city streets. My invisible man may pass unseen by day, But he makes his presence known at night. |