Prose Poetry 

I refused to get in the shower for days. I was afraid I’d lose your smell that was etched on my skin. I wanted to carry you around with me for as long and as far as I could. So when the time came, I undressed in parts with patience. Took my time like you did that night. This time I wanted to do it right, I took my sweet time, searching for every mark every bite of that night. If there was an audience, it’d be a sight, to behold. Your grip on me, your hold, when the night was bold, we were to each other sold. Our noses fought to be a part, love, passion all lost in the art. You were drama, a musical in bed and poetry in motion. Leaving feelings unsaid to the imagination. Kissed me with your eyes closed, my hands your blindfold. I warm, you cold, tugging stitches of the threads that bound us, until our bare skins found us. Your hands moved on the bosom and mine flew down. We whispered and screamed in ears, bite the lobes and kissed the napes until the sunrise when you drifted, I shifted to a dreamland of our own in each other’s arms. And when the morning came, life was never the same. We parted ways, you moved left and I right, catching the last glimpse, what a sight. When two lovers separate, just to run into each other again at another date. And until then, I was going to savor you for as long and as hard as I could. Refusing to get into the shower.

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