Drunk Love

Her silhouette
has always been a mystery to us
seeing her private curves
thin fabric she hides behind
betrayed by the sun.
Standing there,
with a certain look
neither of us move
the naked fully clothed girl
stands her delicate ground
my eyes cover every inch.
With beauty at her side
she stands waiting,
wanting all the attention,
he stands and closes the distance.
The first little slap
her soft perfume
triggers the memory guide
my hand to her hip.
It was always so easy
to stand and share with her
the same intimate breath.
This first touch
the grasp of her wrist
squeezed and pulled
against my rough chin
she begs to be super close.
Words dance in her ear
with warm accurate breathing
mixed with the emotional tug.
Her knees felt weak.
Still, her silhouette was the need,
almost as if, we were laying in her bed.
My eyes met hers,
we both wanted the same thing
she whispered those words.
With a step back
still, with her wrist in hand
she spun her sparkled dress
and danced on tiptoed heels
she caught the staring eyes
and pushed back from behind.
She needed the attention
it was starting to show
she was wanting,
and as if to read her mind
I grabbed her
we kissed pretty hard.
Some call these moments
‘love drunk love’
it was always this way
for centuries now.
Romantically decorated rooms
with layers and layers
adorning both their charms
we roamed freely
feeding on each other
‘love drunk love’
or otherwise.

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