Desire born out of the sight
Of a mass of sleeping curves.
A wishful touch born out of the desire.
A half uttered moan, lost in translation.
A ripple in the lake of placid calm.
Layers shed. Urgent messages dispatched.
Her experiments of playing blind.
His pleas, begs and thrusts.
The tug of war of sensual principles,
While the world around rocked gently,
Bursting in a million colors.
Till the moment of death in which
Her eyelids finally fluttered open.
One look into the depths and he died too.
The lake regained its still
And the world its monochromatic hue.
gr8t
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