Darkly dangerous stockings
linger on her flesh,
the scent of yesterday’s love
clinging to them like folly,
making my mind wander
while my hands roam freely
along freshly shaved skin,
tawny skin, creamed coffee,
summoning sinful hands
to probe and pull at the meat beneath.

Whiskeyed breath in my ear,
round and full with promise
cascading across my throat
with whispered sweetmeats
that attempt perfection,
only to find themselves
slicked by perspiration
and lost in the murmurs
of my beating heart.

With a half-lidded gaze
made of butterscotch and heat
you draw me closer, closer still,
until, awash in pleasure,
I am mastered by you,
my faithful supplicant.

And as we love,
truth enters my heart;
a small but familiar pain
echoing through the chasms
within me,
the distant latin chants
of an oncoming train.