AFTER THE PARTY

by

Alone with her past midnight in my room,

We kiss in prelude to ecstatic things,

Like silhouettes, while rusty divan springs

Creak out a cracked concerto in the gloom.

Her lips are warm, moist with desire's dews.

Her touch -- soft warm rubs I was blessed to find --

Caresses me, while her sighs bring to mind

The soulfulness of Mississippi Blues.

Bored, we had fled a suffocating party,

To seek a mutual lull from loneliness;

Locked in a brief -- too brief -- togetherness;

Locked in ourselves.... So what! if she is tarty,

And slinks away a stranger in the morning?

These minutes now, she's love; she's warmth;

she's bliss!

And loneliness dies, not being born for this,

But for the jibe ... and the indifferent scorning.

Oh! while we love, the Sunday hours creep

Towards the dawn with blushes in their cheeks!

Comes ecstasy -- the couch no longer creaks.

Too soon we shall be slipping into sleep....

Glad in her body, sweet, and passion-wise,

I lay bouquets of kisses on her eyes.

NEXT?
Why don't you look at Nathan and The Peach
by: Crystal Dawn Allen
from: Halifax, NS, CA

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