Tonight we lie
on letters strewn across the floor.
Playful wrestling pinned down by truth,
every word, phrase, curve of each letter was delicatly written - for you.
Envelopes addressed, stamped,
but never sent.
They sit high on a shelf,
over looking the haven I've made myself.
The place where thoughts melt into ideas,
ideas that wiggle into the imagination and reside,
on my fingertips.
You, standing there with your broad shoulders,
tall, looming, intimidating.
Reaching for my box you unknowingly reach into my heart, my soul, my mind.
With each letter your read your face sets deeper into frustration.
Anger. Thought. Dissapointment. and Approval.
I stand silently,
too afraid to move.
You drop them - opened
onto the floor.
They flutter down effortlessly, lightly, as though the words contained in them,
don't bare the burden that's mounting inside you.
After each letter is opened, each sentence picked apart,
each word read time and time again,
you reach for me.
Your demenor shadowed by mock humor as you pull me down.
Strong hands that would surely crush anything.
that doesn't match in size.
Seek out my body and caress the parts that no man,
has ever touched - as sweetly.
Passion or frustration,
we move around the floor in a dance,
only meant for two.
You bore into me,
and I take it.
Like I always have.
I wonder how long before the shaking,
of the ultimate climax,
Your hands giving way to sturdy arms,
rest on either side of my head.
massive but fit.
It entraps me below and I can barely breathe.
Your face, rugged, handsome,
inches away from my own.
Words that used to calm me,
now spill bone chillingly out of your mouth.
A sense of contemptment washes over me,
as your body lifts from mine.
I can move freely, but I don't dare.
Not until the door closes behind you.
I stand in my room,
letters strewn across the floor.
A wrestling match gave way to truth,
and it is that, we never in turn meet again.