strain

As I stepped out of the room,
head down, I crashed directly
into his chest.
The hallway was dark, but it was him.
Since our last escapade,
there had been no words spoken,
looks exchanged.
Being so close was torturous agony.

The bar was pulsing,
low heady bass lines
vibrate the walls lightly.
The enclave barely lit,
he took hold of my upper arms.
Steering me deeper into a corner
no one could see.
Lips parted to speak,
before a sound could escape
his mouth covered mine.
Crushing passion,
whiskey tasted and fueled.

Back arched,
nipples hardening as my breasts pressed into him.
Our tongues woven in desperate frenzy.
Wrap a leg around his waist,
straining closer.
Gray satin covered heel
pressing just above his jeans.
Black chiffon bunched between us,
as he held onto me with one hand.
His other tugging the top of my dress,
to allow his mouth to dip inside for a taste.

My hand cradled his head,
fingers stroking dark hair specked with age.
He expelled a breath,
floated hot and rushed against my neck.
Raging fire,
almost stone.

——— I wrote this after my post earlier. It had started as a story, which I felt was complete crap. So I went through and turned it into poem. 🙂 Radiohead definitely motivated me.

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Posted on November 18, 2010, in Poetry and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink. 2 Comments.

  1. Hmmm, I like this. Very nice.

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