Purple Plums

Imagine a single,
shriveled pitted-prune
in a bushel of freshly-picked,
sweet, firm, purple plums.
Tiny beads of perspiration
trickle across goosebumps
eliciting witness to arousal.
Unblinking eyes gasp
at taut, silky flesh
when moonless midnights'
anticipation shudders.
The juice of the meaty delicacy
dribbles taboo down lust's chin
in a dream just before awakening.
An insistent shimmer-shiver
rapidly tattoos desperation
with every pounding heartbeat
of untarted forbidden flavor.

Passion Spent Spills

Heated flesh radiates with a red aura:
rubbing up against attraction’s golden glow
in the still midnight hush, a fragrant flush
blushes urgency to flower petulantly
as the whitewater rapids of desire ply
curiosity with a provocative pretense.

Forms embody souls’ impressions
and curve-cuddle close like the lines
of fingerprints, they shadow dance
on momentary eternity’s wall –
illuminated by united bliss-brilliance
in separation’s dark desert of illusion.

The fresh scent of passion spent spills
upon quivering petals like dewdrops’
crystallized ambrosial nectar: innocence
yields like fading stars at sunrise – multitudes
burn into one radiant luminosity and blood
flows through the heart, condensing into spirit.

Ancient, Nocturnal Lady

Ancient, nocturnal lady,
ladle yourself over my flesh
like hot fudge topping
dripping over a banana split.

Swim with me
in an electric whirlpool,
eddying between seasons
change, centered in the eye
of a hurricane, outside
warm rain's reach.

Stand next to me -
withstand the solar wind's brunt
as we emanate our own magnetosphere!
Plasma, in un-deplete-able quantities,
auroras - flashing, shimmering,
pulsing waves - galactic
nightglow erupts.

Insistence demands
no more whispers,
for Samhain's rites
cleave the sky at midnight,
moonlessly awakening
genetic memory.

Petulant fingers thrum
upon a cozmic tabletop.

"I could spend a lifetime
holding, gently but firmly,
your nipple in a toothy vise,
breathing and tasting," He realizes.

Electromagnetic chemistry
ignited empathic curiosity
as worry's own tears
washed forgiveness
into a Venice Beach
lightning striking night.

"I would forgo sleep
through every night,
squandering sweet existence,
just to learn to read
the braille in your
ivory fleshed curves."

Seemlessly, we embrace
the ocean's salty flavors
as we skinny dip
in an icy ocean
more alive than human
senses can reveal.

Ancient, nocturnal lady
your night never ends,
lucid dreams reign supreme,
fathoming every possibility
which ever welled up into Himalayas
from the deepest ocean floor -
monumental edifices erected
to memorialize
original cause,
opposites' insistent attraction.

Alone

He held her in night's hush,
an arm curled around her waist -
his breath lingered on her shoulder;
horizon colored eyes smiled
through a dew drop
stained windowpane.

Taut flesh pressed together
casketed warmth cascaded:
urgently,
silently radiating
contentment's afterglow.

Her lower lip's flavor
still washed his tongue
while her breasts moaned
at the haunting memory
left by raspy teeth tips' graze.

A light porch breeze tickled
wind chimes as the ocean's
murmurous roar resounded
beyond earshot.

Daybreak pried open
his eyes, he reached out,
expecting joy's snuggle;
sensory intruded upon reverie
and he stood, gazing
at Van Gogh's
empty bedsheets.