Open
Hands
Spreading tree, fractaling humanity
Tips of tips trace gently, massage, explore, withhold
Neck
Miracle of engineering, steel support cables, connection to the senses
Here taste the vibrations of your voice
Eyes
Soft raw secrets
All is bared, reflected
Languid skin, humid aura, belly to belly we share everything
You are everywhere so smooth
Except where you are not.
Muscles
Contract
Arch, tense,
To the breaking point,
Pushing beyond human limits, torture,
Flashes of colors and geometric shapes torture torture,
We are nothing. We are the cosmos
Then
The massive overspill
Pressure eases
Breath returns
Vision lightens
And
You.
You.
You.
Fresh Hell 
Awesome poem!
LikeLike
Thank you! ^_^
LikeLike
Makes a very poor forward to your autobiography, Sarah. I thoroughly disagree with this oblique approach to the day of your birth. Would have been better if you’d composed it as a poem. It has the passion of a good one. Love the ending to it — as a poem. It’s actually moving — as a poem. Not so much as a foreword.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Is this about shagging?
LikeLiked by 1 person
Yes. Yes it is.
LikeLike