Lust

It all starts in a candle lit room
With words spoken softly
And whispers
in the rhythm
Of heartbeats
To the gentle meeting
Of willing lips
Hands intertwined
In gentle holds
That turn to firm grasps
With each kiss

To heavey breathing
And thighs wrapped
Around waists
Back against wall
And fingers caressing
The back of a poet neck
To nibbling of ears
And mumbled words
That turn to pleasure groans
Moans that curl toes

To screaming
Biting
Scratching
Pulling
Pushing
Fast
Slow
Gentle
Hard

Exhaustion