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Prone

Prone, she lays like a sick dog on the bed on the second floor of my home.
Standing before her naked, our eyes caress the milk white hidden skin.
In the colder days of autumn or the prickly heat of August, I'd take her,
yielding and compliant, luxorious and radiant.
The glow from inside her skin radiating outwards like an incredible sunburst,
tendrils of smokey light reaching out to touch me, long opaque fingers
would reach around my heart, tugging insistently
Slowly, the rhythm of her heart would enslave my own heart in my own chest.
As one in time, in measure, in tune; counting out the precious seconds of our nights.
I watch her breath. The air moves beyond her lips to my own
and I draw her into my lungs.
There she floats and dances through my capilaries until she collapses.
Chest heaving, brow shiny with the sweat of our lovemaking, she leaves me there
as a carefree sleep overtakes her conciousness and she dreams again of waking.

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