Afternoons with You

with fire and roses,

breathing my skin in

as if it were your own.

My trembling

does not give justice

to the pounding

of my heart.

I melt into you,

succumbing to

all that you are,

and your heartbeat

echoes on my skin.

Consumed,

there is no

goodness apart from you.

There is no desire

other than this place

where we stand.

Vacant rooms

beckon to us

in shades of gray.

We fumble down the hallway,

eyes closed,

lost in curious imaginings,

overcome with a longing

deeper than than we

have ever known.

Your bed,

once a silent tomb

is suddenly inflamed

with passion's fire.

I have no beginning.

You have no end.

We are.

The ceiling fan

whirs above us

in voyeuristic pleasure,

drowning out

cries of release

as we drown in

love's nectar.

Spent, we entwine.

Parting is a pain

we cannot entertain

until the fire dims.

And when the door closes

behind me,

your dew still upon my lips,

I smile in remembrance,

longing for more

afternoons with you,

lost in all that we are.