Easter Date

By | 13 May 2024

I stand above you lying stretched
across the bed on your stomach,

your face turned away from me.
I click off shots with my phone,

your dark curls a curtain flowing
over brown shoulders, hiding

your looks. The light bounces
around you, off your sheen,

your lithe form unsheathed
for me, your luminous shapes

I want to plunge into, I would
bite down on if you’d let me.

I sink to my knees on that plush
hotel mattress to kiss the tender

place where thigh meets cheek,
lick a particular path up your side.

Was your hand on my breast
or mine on yours? Our hands

between each other’s thighs,
your fingers strum as you draw

thrumming notes from me.
I cry out in delight and surprise

as your touch gently prises me
open and lays my life bare.

Sounds I’ve never let out before
ricochet around the room and I ask

in awe what did you just do to me?


I think of us later walking
through the restaurant,

my open palm flat on your
lower back guiding you.

You notice the woman
at the next table when

she sees our hand-holding
beside the sangria glasses,

and does she hear our
conversation too salty

for soft ears? We were only
talking about writing and dating

but what writing! What dating!


I think of after lunch
back at the hotel again

we pad along the hushed
cushy hallway, my hand

roaming up your top
as the lift door encloses

us for precious minutes
while we steal kisses.

I think of you steeping
our tea in the afterglow,

your bare ass distracting
me. We swap our twin

chocolate bunnies and bite
into them, sweetening

the salt on our tongues
licked from each other’s

flesh, our folds and buds.

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