The smell of sex



(Because you asked me to write this)



It’s late again;


 the morning’s turned to afternoon

and I have never kissed someone

so many times in all their unknown places.


Our love becomes


a mirror where your eyes reflect a light

on all those lonely nights we’ve lived

before our spirits met and hearts began to sing.


After the love


is over with it’s multi coloured liquid songs

the room vibrates with stolen sounds that

permeate the solid age old walls


and the smell of sex,


is licked from each one’s lips

inhaled with puzzled smiles:

there is no sense in asking why.


We breathe


each other’s breath a moment in recline

turn away to lie entwined

and wait for coffee.




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