Holy and hot

Friday, August 11, 2017

Hot sun, sweat rolls down my brow,

This movement we make,

Touches we give and take,

Lips kissed and kissed again,

In a fist we never meant to happen,

Yet like magic does,

Despite our claiming

We can stop it when it starts,

And skid out of control when we try,

Breathing deep as we delve

Into those deepest of places

We ache for, too scared to go

In the outdoor, out the in,

Around back and then again,

Each move making it easier t touch

Holy and hot,

Sun making us drip

As we sip the nectar of life