Dear Fellow!

A look at that split second we through caution to the wind!

Slipping nectar on yielding flesh abate,

Salted tears come hard  to the fore,

Reddish cheeks not used to smile,

Fall soft upon that polished wood floor.

Gaping silence just breath to be heard,

False truths give sweet kisses sold,

Backing all that we hold close today,

Now, now dear fellow how bold.

Perfect fingers lay heavy on painted thighs,

Tiny veins scream in speed to the skin,

Flaccid memories are far from us in time,

No people to bind him to kith and kin.

One last push to make promise of next time,

Head spinning rushes last all to short,

Gentle tapping on my bedroom door,

Makes us jump and think for now abort!

Author's Note

Be honest and striking as you always are my darlings!

Reviews

[Pryde Foltz]

One last push to make promise of next time,
Head spinning rushes last all to short,
Gentle tapping on my bedroom door,
Makes us jump and think for now abort!

Well … it is certainly hot in here. A invigorating write, to say the least. You lucky, duck.

[Thomas Fitzgerald]

Thank you.

[Hitchhiker]

Hah! Painted thighs?" Anyway, the give and take within the lines of this beauty were wonderful to read. Oh how I love this line . . . "False truths give sweet kisses sold," Talk about a teaser. Last line, my friend, had me thinking the same thing . . . "abort!" . . . But I sensed it was probably too late to stop.

[Thomas Fitzgerald]

It's always to late to stop! x

[Sami Khalil]

Hot and steamy with carefulness at the end. You behold the promise of another day and another memory. Excellent...:)......

[Thomas Fitzgerald]

Thank you Sami x

[Sami Khalil]

You are welcome...:)......................