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I Watch, I Remember
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Somewhere-In-Between Poems From across the room you speak
You’ve seen me staring.
How can I not?
Your skin is flushed,
Your hairline damp with sweat
But we aren’t alone.
So I smile, shake my head
And say “Nothing.”
“Okay,” You reply, but your gaze lingers
And my smile changes.
I remember.
I remember the salt tang of your skin
The last time we were together.
I remember the sounds you made
As I dragged my tongue
From navel to jugular
To capture every drop,
I remember how you moved,
Arched up to meet me,
Lips rough and hands firm
And how you almost screamed when I bit down.
Your breath came in harsh sighs
And then seemed to stop.
My hands on your hips, pinning you
As I suckled on your thigh
You threw your head back and moaned,
Your voice low, guttural,
And utterly sexual.
Now, as you speak, voice light and merry
I recall the oaths and curses you gasped out
Words torn from your throat and spilled into the night.
I remember your hands on my back,
Urging me on, your nails piercing my skin
As you bring my lips to your body once more.
Primal, desperate need flows between us.
Together we tear the last clothes from your body
And there you lie, naked and quivering,
Flesh and bone offered up for my use.
I try to calm the storm that rages in my flesh.
My hands become gentle, my touch light,
Lips trailing slowly and softly over sensitive skin.
You grip my arms, hard enough to bruise.
Even in the darkness I can see the passion in your eyes.
My hands trace the vein in your arms until they reach your wrists
I hold you down.
Your body lifts to meet me; friction plays against heated skin,
My mouth comes once more to your throat, but I leave no evidence.
You cannot say the same:
I feel the trickle of blood from my wounded back.
It inflames me.
My hand reaches down your body and I delight in the sounds of pleasure you make.
I enter, and you are lost; no longer able to keep quiet or still.
My lips travel softly down your torso,
While my hands wrench every moment of pleasure from your body.
I am no longer capable of thought.
My mind is overwhelmed with sensory information.
You smell…
You feel…
You taste…
I hear you beg, feel your hands guide me,
I see the way your body moves
I cannot help but mark you again
Before I lean in to taste you.
From across the room you speak.
You’ve seen me staring.
How can I not?
