Slope

Lying beside divinity's curls
Laughing at her laughter
Mesmerized by her perfection his blemishes her curves his flaws her profound wisdom in word, thought and vibe - his tarnished soul foolish and sometimes mistakenly trying to lead - chuckle, smile, and sigh.

Divinity gets closer, envelopes at times and even pulls at his torso - a once tangent moment melts cream into cacao and blends seamlessly into eternity - it bends at times, pauses, experiences then carries on toward - shit who knows where it continues on toward, but it does - the same moment - evolving, but still the same one. Melding, maneuvering and marking him while bruising against her blurred lines.

She tastes a bit like Chicago's cymbals and beats, more like the South's Swing, but mostly she tastes like a saxophone begging to be handled, stroked begging to sweat between shades dismissing reds and blues - mostly blue hues - so cool they exhale when they want while want falls wayside - she licks her lips at that blue, and her mouth waters - Divinity craves.

He wisens, loosens his grip, and allows her sweat, moans to sweep.