Sunday Nights

Posted: June 15, 2014 in Poetry
Tags: , , , ,

Do you remember when every night mattered

when passion in the moment

your lips on mine

could wipe away the hours around us

while we fell into a spell of sensual travel

ripping our clothes off

with abandon

reaching into each other

tongues driving, eyes searching inside

each other’s soul.

Remember when it didn’t matter where we were

if the look came we were on each other

groping, searching, delighting in the nervous

energy of being outside in the public eye

yet private without anyone ever seeing us.

So we thought

and we were right.

We were in our own world

a parallel that let our lives become

the surreal lovers we hoped to be

while everyone else became mechanical

settling for what they thought was a routine

they were happy with …

alone together we traveled

at night under the stars

a hedge along the river walk

where your gasps were held at bay

only if we heard footsteps along the path.

we were never sure if we missed some eyes

instead we made love,

the kind that let our days run together

a monday, we fucked well into tuesday,

a thursday, we made love and swept each other’s hearts

a friday, we played in anticipation through saturday morning, into

a sunday. We need to ready ourselves for monday.

And then it began

that different reality

we began to simply imagine those moments,

when we had time to reflect

or was it when we allowed ourselves

because we had forgotten how to reflect.

Remember when Sunday nights meant

only more opportunities

to share one another’s passion.

Remember when nothing else mattered

beyond bringing each other to new levels.

I do miss those levels.

  1. Good dialogue of raw lust but I think it might profit from more sensory involvement allowing your reader to feel what is happening. Not a cheap romance novel but a piece that fully engages the senses. Take one stanza, expand upon it and add details that solicit an engaged mind.


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