New Poem - Rough Draft: Just An Old Refrain, March 15, 2010

March 15, 2010

Just An Old Refrain

Years ago

we began an affair

which turned into so much more than a simple series of trysts

we never imagined

we were beginning a journey

When our lips touch

each one's soft, satiny skin lingering against the other's

we're overwhelmed by sensation and elation,

emotion,

devotion.

I stare deep into your eyes,

run my hand against the apple of your cheek,

your mahagony skin smooth against my fingers.

Loving you is not easy.

It's made up of moments of bliss and frustration,

of frantic and infrequent time spent basking in each other's warmth,

juxtaposed with hours, days, weeks

of waiting and

waiting.

Oh you!

You bohemian,

train-rider,

saw-player,

serenader,

with a heart of gold and a

body my hands can't stay away from --

that v at your pelvis,

the line between your pecs,

your hipbones,

your throbbing cock,

all too eager to enter me,

and me,

oh so eager to spread my legs wide and oblige.

We come together like primal beasts,

like diners having feasts,

like scientist doing experiments,

like youngsters playing games for kicks,

it's all so decadent,

but when it's right,

it's just about perfect.

These are a few of my favorite things:

the way our hands touch when you pass the bowl to me;

the way you pass me a smoke, a beer, a plate of food, anything, really;

the way you look down at me, admiringly, desiringly, devouringly, empoweringly,

overpoweringly, dominantly;

the way you take me, the way you make me

bask in your presence,

at times, unable to voice the simplest things --

like how much this,

you,

mean to me;

or how you take my breath away,

leaving me aching and shaking,

the earth quaking,

my lips quivering,

my knees weak,

shivering,

goosebumps covering my skin,

you've done it to me again,

brought me to the brink

and beyond

and now, i'm gone --

lost on some other plane,

where only the sound of your voice,

the touch of your limbs,

can bring me back to this realm.

And god, darling,

every instant of this bliss,

this deviant kiss,

this extraordinary existence,

is a million and one moments of splendor, wonder, pounding thunder, rioting rain,

as we drain each other

until we lie limp and again begin this old, familiar,

haunting,

delicate,

wondrous

refrain.

copyright 2010 Katherine Andrews