[Mister Saint]: 79.mature.even
I part the hanging curtains
to display my dreaming eyes,
allow the syrup-dripping dark
to fill them,
with her silver, soothing glow.
You've lain asleep for hours.
I can see your figure traced
in waves beneath our sheets.
Silk as green as emerald dust,
sinuous lines here rise, there fall.
I coax apart the window blinds
to watch a moonbeam, leaking, gleaming,
pool and coolly pour upon you.
Your breathing whispers secrets
as I steal onto our bed-for-one
and treat myself to fantasy.
Our glass smooth silks have slipped
a bit, I smile to see.
Your shoulder, bare as porcelain
and trimmed in ghostly white
reveals its firm, clean curves to view.
I've always loved the way you sleep
in nothing but your smile.
I tug our silken sheets along
your darling, naked form.
Your breast swells snowy pale
against the garden of your chest,
its slender, tender tip blooms ripe
and tempting to my lips.
I hear your breathing shift a bit.
“Do you like it…?”
Sleepy still, you spread
your ocean siren’s smile,
enchanting me anew.
I wet my lips,
I bow my head,
and let my kisses tell you yes.