Distant Dreams

Slumber subsides,

Giving way to thoughts of you.

Are they dream carryovers?

The continuation of a unconscious play

Fighting its way into the living world?

Who cares?

The show must go on.

I, sitting on a couch,

Hold you sitting on my lap,

Your legs thrown sideways

With your arms around my neck.

The fingers of my left hand

Glide up your leg

Past the opening of a flower print dress

To the dripping of a pedal.

I toy

As smiles and smirks pass,

And loving eyes gaze deeply into each other.

A lower lip quivers as heartbeats quicken.

My right hand disappears momentarily

Until a handful of hair intertwines fingers.

A sharp tug releases a moan

And fingers enter the stream.

Biting on your neck

I search for the artery

Feeling the blood pump with my tongue.

The show should go on,

But the time isn’t right.

The passion burns within

Pulsing around knuckles

And squeezed against the rings.

My ears long for the shrieks,

But children wander the halls

And neighbors are not home.

I want to hear you howl at the moon

Until the night gives way to day.

Fingers return to shore and my right hand moves

To the back of your neck.

You taste the sweet ocean

Until I pull you in to pass it on to me.

Your head moves to my shoulder

And the fire gives way to love.

My fingers interlock

Squeezing you close to my body.

Hearts beat rhythmically

In tune with the universe.

Smiles… genuine, deep, and sincere…

Rest upon our faces

As the desire sustains us

Until the screams can be released.

This show will go on,

And it shall never be matched.



Published by Shaun M. Wilkinson

Poet. Author.

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