His Shirt


  
The sound of water, spraying
Echoes that are surrounded by marble and glass
With steam rising
The sex still lingering
A room left disheveled
The flesh, deviled
Raw to the core
Recreating porn
The Internet would crash
In a flash
The pounding that rocked
The headboard hard
His look, when he thrust, soft
The look, when she mouthed, oh!
Silently at first until her voice caught up
With a wooing moan
As he howled
The flash in his mind, Exploded
Then, Silence
To the count 5
The door opens releasing steam
As he penetrates the cool air
The room lit by the Suns stare
They both marvel at the sight
Of an Angel wearing
His shirt

Ax

2 thoughts on “His Shirt

  1. OMG LOL! No, not at the poem, that’s hot! What are the odds that we used the same exact picture 15 minutes apart… too funny.

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