eye of a storm

Nighttime
drops like a veil
of submission
over bodies submerged,
bathing in short sips
of liquid caresses.
Your tongue forges
a glistening trail
of warmth and seduction
through the eye of a storm,
casting aside tiny
thundering tremors
left in your wake.
Humid whispers
cling like moist silk
to the nape of my neck,
my own words slipping into
a thin layer of vapor:
this moment is worn like flesh.
Drenched under a cover
of heated madness,
piece by piece
we devour the marrow
from each kiss.

Intricately,
I play a serenade
of ripples:
the room blessed
by a rhapsody
of soft sighs interlacing.
Your knees are yielding
and I tumble deeper,
my lips cradled
in a crescent
of honeyed thighs.
I descend
into waves breaking
over insatiable flickers
of a crying tongue.
Your belly rises
like a phoenix,
and I drink in
each quivering tremble,
lapping up your scent
like sacred wine.
The first stroke
of morning falls
through wilted lashes
and finds me disappeared
into a wish upon
a star
in your endless sky.