Sex Respite

The talking stops.

Lips, tongues exploring,

My fingers running through your hair,

Your hand on the back of my neck,

            I feel the weight of your breast

            And slide my hand down your

waist, hip, to your thigh,

It can be exhausting to communicate,

Just trying to be properly heard,

            My lips and tongue graze the skin

of your neck, breasts, and belly,

drifting to prickly hairs, soft skin 

finding the heat between your legs

Your words are reduced to vowels,

perfectly understood.   

            Our bodies join,

            I lie on my back,

Straddled by you,

            Connected, we settle into a shared rhythm

Thought at last is mercifully gone.