November 12, 2012

• Late Nights And Strange Dreams

  Why did you hide it, my beautiful silk gown, the long one which touched my ankles and felt like finest satin left behind by some wanton movie star, for I need it tonight to dress up for you, for you to climb the stairway stopping at the stained glass landing, for you wanted to make certain that you brushed your teeth after sneaking out for a quick cigarette to make your warmness from the scotch linger, the hardness of your own organ just to drift away until you could take the smoke I hated off your body which I loved to touch on nights like this one when the babies are all asleep, and I had time, the precious time to let silk wrap around the near perfect body left inspite of birth, and to please you I could think of erotic things which would take us both away from caring that in the morning you would scrape ice, leave me sleeping just long enough to meet up with other older student Moms like me, and the walk up the hill, the perfect mile would leave me breathless, so why did I not share with my friends what had been the perfect act, the perfect dream? 

  My pretty gown was missing,  the one you liked so much, so I found the beautiful scarves with colors of deep red, the ones which I collected — Some purple like the deep purple of song, some block stamped from some designer who wanted something beautiful to wrap one’s person with his design, so I grabbed them as you groomed and like a present without a bow made it as such you would need to take me in between long carresses before the moon light fully faded on winter trees reaching for me through their scratches on the window, but I was your package, yours alone, and you could take the scarf, place it on my back, let the others fall away until I picked one up and began to massage gently you, fully aroused and begging me to just let you no longer hold inside the semen which had to release.

  I did not feel left out then, for I knew that you only needed to recover, and I was ready now for me to be with you, for it was like that then when ours to hold was the late night, just minutes, and I would gently touch your arms, your perfect body now still warmer than mine, and you would lie your head on breast full of swelling, just right, beginning to overflow, for a morning feeding was already being made for the baby who now had given back our night, b ut it only yadded to the perfect hour, you in me, both now beggers for more.  How brainless those who failed to know that parents loved, and we would finally be so beyond ourselves, silk still touching now and again to cover our beautiful skin, and you would like that I blushed to even be reminded of all we did the night before, the perfect nights.

  It seemed impossible for them to go away, and I refuse to fold them, the pieces of silk they will find someday and know that we loved.  We made fire where there was ice, and our heavy breath kept the ice on the window sparkling as it tried not to melt from living fire.  I fold, and I folded agan, each time we moved, and I marveled the young woman I became in those garments, the arms you held me with, and in the late night, sometimes, I believe we are there again.

  I want it all back, so I fall to the floor like a broken rose stem just dreaming and wondering who will find the silken gown that brought you to the love making of no return and me wanting to share the secrets to the pathetic ones who cannot even come close to knowing what it is to feel almost owned  melded together, you in me and I pressing as close as I could just to stay locked against you all of our flesh one, the perfect fit, our beautiful hours, so many nights, for you came home late having played the long concert, getting out,  parking on the street so you could hurry home, for I might be there in the flesh colored silk gown touching my ankles, taking the brandy you offered for me to sip, for I would taste like something warm — Your tongue to mine, your larger arms holding me, and I see you now sneaking out the door  to blow smoke rings which would try to take you from me, but my dream world cannot remember that now; No, just you and me on the perfect nights.

  • 7:34 am
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