Cherry Stained

I lay there in anticipation as
his hands gently caress the contours
of my stomach.
His touch so sensual and soft.
As if I were a delicate flower whos
sent so rare
A tiny petal missing;his gentle
caress justifying the beauty of imperfection.
The small of my back,the arch of my feet.
The longing inside of me.
Every intimate moment consuming me with desire
The sparkling of eyes close.
The sight of passion;the spark that light the fire.
Closer and closer;face to face.
His lips trembling;Im yearning to taste.
One last moment unites us;
the longing still remains.
And there;together we lay;
His lips,cherry stained...

Khia Alana Wishart

Copyright ©2006 Khia Alana Wishart

This poem is dedicated to Shanie