i know not of what i speak. i am me, i am meek.

pushing on her.
pushing from her.
they struggle,
but the movement is not of fight.
it's of passion
of devotion
of the right
for permission
to explore
delicate crevices, to mesh
flesh upon flesh.

leaving saliva-heavy trails
tongues move across
stomachs like snails
and traverse through
skin covered
valleys and hills
as they form with each inhale
and exhale.

and the sounds reign ominous
like thunder and her clouds
shadowing and looming
in the midst
hear every boom and hiss
with the bass of each kiss.
and it's to this
rhythm is formed;
watch the movement of hips.

the scent hangs heavy.
molecules combine
creating a fragrance of two
though it bears a single mind.
under microscopes you'll find
the flurry of atoms
that love forces to intertwine
creating the spark that sends shivers
up unsuspecting spines.

the decrescendo of this symphonic interaction
of two hearts
beating in a carnal fashion
is simply fact
that
the coaxing of a simple glare
yields infinite power
and can entice a lifelong affair.
and it is there
where
you'll find slender fingers dancing through
tangled hair.
and everywhere.
and everywhere.
and everywhere.