The Linguist

My subconscious rises ..takes a seat

Tonight....
A naked sunset..conquers me ... In slow motion

skin on my back massaged by the breath escaping the " longing to be kissed lips " of the cluster of stars I lay upon
 
The sunset melts .. Transforms .stands erect .... My voice lost in the horizon

 drops like sprinkles of steaming candle wax falling strategically .. Between and under my bosom

Areolas now ....entranced ..melted chocolate potion ...oh alice drink me !

The warmth ....burns my skin ..what I thought I knew of this experience turned to ashes


For that moment he melted on me ....
I felt him every where , under , over , inside ,between ...... Slowly

He brought a new sense of air ....Like a misty invitation that combs the hair of a 16yr old coconut tree hidden , now finding her way along the pacific coast ....


..... The lava on ur tongue .....made numb ....my taste buds
Beheaded the rulers that controlled " my perception of ur taste " - .... My tongue became the replica of ur lava

Legs stiffened .... encased by ur warmth
ur pyramid of khufu ...now drenched in the wonders of my undiscovered ...wonders of my egypt

Every stroke , a slow loving entrance that ended with a deep hard thrust to the soul ....sharp curved needles of pleasure burst each balloon of nervousness

Every stroke , dances to my moans , dancing around its beat , unpredictable , not knowing when the sharp slap of each thrust will hit me

 for that moment I became a linguiSt ! Ordained in his purity ...my sweat shun like broken crystals and sapphires whose colour got richer ...as the heat began to birth a sunrise in me ....
 
I Spoke the language of a buttress root making love to the soil beneath
Clawing her back and thighs ...with his strong aged hands ...

Spoke the language of a tree in ... About to give birth to its first fruit

Languages that changed , slowed , increased its pace with the unpredictable tempo of each stroke

Languages only my subconscious understood

Every part of me he scalded sweetly , licked lovingly ....drank every drop of my honey

There is no resolution ....to this ....
The languages climax and evolve
They dine , mix , match ,mesh and kiss passionately in hurricanes of fury ...

There is no resolution ... To this ...
When the sunset meets the linguist
Love is always an exploration of a connection, a pure poetic concoction, - a tune , a climax of happiness ..unending