I, Voyeur

 
It feels terrible—the shadow’s fangs of darkness
Sinking into her sun-lit sky of innocence
Shaped in such huge atomic faithlessness
In her beauty at which nobody stares.

She closes her eyes and down there there’s tickle;
Then she begins to think of his handsome face.
And the world feels so like hurried carousel
As his tongue frolics in her in complete haste.

She bites her lips and they open nonetheless–
She forgets it is her first experience yet.
Her ohs and ahs run counter to her protests
To the intruder romping under her skirt.

Yes, she’s giddy as a planet, only she feels more,
As the body of attraction’s skin-close to her.
Creating friction and belying metaphor,
The sensation’s turned her wits into a cadaver.

Then he rises and unclothes and then proceeds
As if to do not was way beyond his deeds.
She undresses, as in earnest she salivates
To savor his breath, its warmth, its sweetness, its taste.

In his hands her bosoms have defied gravity,
His suckling’s made them stand to immortality.

 

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