Under Sheets

We stepped into familiar air.
The smell of sex
and bad decisions hanging
heavy like the curtains on the window
we broke in through.

I held my breath,
admiring your musculature,
watching other mouths speak Love
in a way that made simply saying it

reading out loud while
passing a bottle between us;
every sip a step closer to lust
just dance with me, lover.

We took everything off,
stood bare like trees
after the fruit’s been picked
seeds sinking back into the earth,

whispers stinging
like a windchill,
winter smothering the night,
nerve endings burning
like the tips of cigarettes
smoked between muscle spasms.

You shook like San Francisco
the day I made a river out of you,

your tongue trailing off
to other continents
the constellations
spelling out our names,

crashing into each other
like waves, arms out and open
waiting for the other
to stay.

We held on for as long as we could,

eyelids turning into anvils,
bodies on the cusp of meaning,
bones making music with the moon

a song
cursing the morning
for coming too soon.

©2011 Patrick Szajner

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ray_strickland's picture

Bad ass poem. Thank you.

Bad ass poem.
Thank you.

poet610's picture

A wounderful

A wonderful piece, lots of passion.
keep penning