Hot Thoughts

The bedsheets still carry

his warm, dark musk

and last night haunts your nerves

Light developed into heat,

woven from time and susorrous

Revelations yet revealed.

His fingers sliding

Beneath your clothes

His mouth, hot and rough

Against your ear

His voice wanders the house

A rough, animal thing

Lilting and gentle

When he’s inclined,

But with you,

He shows the beast within him

Trusting to your strength,

As you trust his.

The tea is still too hot

To drink

But if you were

To raise the cup to your lips

Your own heat

Would surpass what

Sits in the cup.



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