Poemhead

Battle of Skin

The wrinkle of sheets and covers
Form up this mountain of a mess
That you adorn in curving shades
On top of which you lay pressed

Your hips urging upward
Your back arched low
Your mouth crying faster
Your body crying slow

Your flesh, so far and so near
Has my hungry hands craving,
Roaming, searching, needing
While my resistance is caving

The pushing and the pressing
In this battle of skin
The Need, Need, Needing
A sweaty victory is ours to win

Trust, moan; thrust, moan
The rhythm of the sea
The pounding of the heart
The you, the me

Crashing, pounding
Calamity before peace
Moaning, screaming
A trembling release

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