The heart knows
That kitchen scene we talked about. We said the granite would be black. We visualized dinner waiting you sitting on top. Pulling your pants off. Pulling your panties off. Taking my shirt off. Your hands on my chest. Your touch, my chest.
I didn’t stoop to your lower Mrs. I didn’t put my hands on the growing surge of moisture. I kissed you and entered you. Long and deep.. your hands in my chest. Needy from nipple to clavicle. My stroke on my toes, long and deep. Your voice “don’t stop. Don’t you fucking stop,” my stroke urgent long… deep.
Your orgasm and mine, like in the bedroom ten minutes before.. the five days in bed coming to this….
The heart is quiet knowing, my nose is listening intently, our chemistry unmistakable.
Ten minutes of licking and sucking flicking my tongue and clamping your thighs.. the multiple death of your breath again and again
The heart is aware, and throwing blood and endorphin. The taste of my readiness in my mouth, the screaming need forcing me forward. Your voice, “my God, right there, again, fuck babe, don’t stop,”.
The memory is like a open book, the soiled bedding after hours and days of giving, pulling, loving, your voice “ tell me,babe tell me,…babe …babe …tell me”.
The laptop is edging toward a fall. I am in you, pushing it up and away. The eye roll and the way you move under me .. pulling me into you. Saying and kissing “ i love you, I love you, I love you”.
The heart is climbing the peaks of the gutter filled mind. The heart is running beside a long hair dog and feeding the animal.
The heart knows what is. It is the beginning and the end.