silent cacophony (triloquy #1)

Hands move along the backs of my legs and over my hips, across the small of my back, along my spine, each vertebrae, counting, counting, around my neck caressing, undressing my already naked form, flowing like water over my shoulders, over the slope of each breast teasing my curves, my nipples, goose-bumps linger on aureoles, so tender the pressure upon my waist, the lines of my ribs ripple the surface, grooves along which to run a finger or two, an artist perfecting a painting with tried and trusted technique, my navel becomes an erogenous zone awakened with circles like come-and-go cup rings with each inhalation come anticipation on both sides of this intensely thinning divide, down to my pelvis and over the mound so bare and smooth I feel the touch move as though it approves,
a sense of knowing as proof,
becomes truth becomes real beyond all that’s imagined, a glistening coating my folds unfolding my sex surrendering, into me, into me, inside me fall, the pulse, the throb, the motion, emotion, the rhythm of air coated in colours of passion fed by chameleon breaths, what I feel is not what you feel but we feel as one, I’m lifted and crushed, folded, unfolded, soliloquy whispers grasped with fingers that hold me in place while floating away, no rush but the rush of blood to the organs in search of a symphony riding the notes through a stave, birds on the wires, how naked the skin can feel when touched by another who peeled away all the defences, how raw, bare, tender, with uncensored care, a collision of chemical highs edging the moment to fall, to fall, to fall, I fall, we fall in silent cacophony, fracturing harmony, intortion ecstasy.

© Emmaleela


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