I scribbled this when an ex-close friend of mine sent me an old ravi varma-esque painting.
Unceasing nights
As she lay there
with skin bare
on that velvety sheet
silk felt lucky
to delicately lay by her
breasts
it chose to be
transparent
as if it knew,
those stimulated
cherry blossom nipples
yearned to be
caressed
kissed
In an attempt of touch,
strands of hair
tried to cover her
excitement.
A whiff of air
gently pushed aside
those strands
wish I was that breeze
I thought,
to rub against
those chalices of
pleasure.
trying not to lose
myself
in the whirl of her
navel
that made way to her
tunnel of pleasure,
what wouldn’t I
give to pass through,
I thought.
unceasing lovers,
she once heard
and as her eyes
looked down at my
excitement,
are you my
unceasing lover tonight?
she asked.
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