The smell of sex

  (Because you asked me to write this)  It’s late again;  the morning’s turned to afternoonand I have never kissed someoneso many times in all their unknown places. Our love becomes a mirror where your eyes reflect a lighton all those lonely nights we’ve livedbefore our spirits met and hearts began to sing. After the love is over with it’s multi coloured liquid songsthe room vibrates with stolen sounds thatpermeate the solid age old walls and the smell of sex, is licked from each one’s lipsinhaled with puzzled smiles:there is no sense in asking why. We breathe each other’s breath a moment in reclineturn away to lie entwinedand wait for coffee.