Sunday, May 9, 2010

A Glimpse of Horror on a Sunny Day

Bright sunny morning
spilling sunshine over
white rumpled covers
as we lay languid
your hand upon
my breast
your fingers
warm and sweetly
touching until
they stop
and there in the sparkling
soft sighs still
floating in air
you say two and a half words
"what's this?"
as my now icy fingertips
follow yours
and cold crystals of
darkness gather and inhale
our collective
as all recedes to the
singular point of
what should
not be but is
the lump
under our locked
frigid fingers
beneath my skin
and above my pulse paused

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