At the risk of sounding vague

She breathes in deep and tastes
his scent
Tainted by the salt in sweat
She wants to hold him in
She knows how this begins

By any name, his musk would
still consume her
As it fills her, he inflates her
He drinks her lips instead
He knows just how it ends
and just how it's

Over
she rolls over, finds a rose
left in his wake
She's bleeding as it penetrates.

And he whispers something
But maybe it was nothing
The sweetest little nothing
That she never even heard

And she's feeling something
But he wishes it was nothing
The sweetest little nothing
That he never thought he'd feel

"At the risk of sounding vague
I think we're going to be okay"

June '06