POSTED 03/05/2018 17:33
We had just had our bodies washed in the bathtub –
heading bodaciously down to the living room.
We’re descending the staircase one step at a time;
without apparels or maybe just undies of clone nature.
We lay smooches, softly, on our bodies; licking and biting.
I enjoyed the smooth: the way he placed both –
his hands on my waist line. It was so ‘finely’ done.
I felt comfortable at the way he infiltrated the elastic of my stringed ‘wear.’
He flicked thru the bushy way in an all merry-go-round manner,
and then he effortlessly withdrew his hand,
Crave for more.
He was ‘fifth’ on the stair in a ‘descend’ manner,
and I stood at the ‘fourth,’
with by back given to his hands; that made me swoon,
For that moment we’d lay on the couch;
As in loving,
I was so tucked in the mood that I thought he had moved those hands of his,
which would cause tingles in my body, as a whole.
So I ran down quickly, and watched him trip to land on the floor.
He’s been dirked by my whims and emotions.
I ran out of him when he was about leaning on me – maybe for solace,
maybe cause of the cold, maybe cause we jingled down this stairway,
maybe cause he was sure of safety, maybe love is ‘posed to be a fable,
maybe it’s ‘posed to cause a spurt; of tears, in-between joy.
This is exactly two years after this happened.
I have been hauling those images of how it happened,
So quick and flashy,
We had never wanted the love making to end so quickly,
But you died, all owed to my lust, maybe.
I stare at this stairway
For this long a time,
To keep love afar,
But yet, I'm bruised,
Scared of losing this home
To lease, I’ll die here also, my love.
I insert this knife in my sternum; I’ll not watch me bleed,
I just hope I will be free,
Cause “it was here,” it all happened, two years ago.
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