untitled2 (((((_____))))))

The pressing of your clothed backside to my lap, the
rhythmic gyrations of anticipation, the awkward, inefficient
dragging of faded jeans from your long and ever soft (although
on occasion prickly) legs, the pressing of naked flesh to
naked flesh, cocooned by felt and plaid blankets and
love, I thought I had found ecstasy, but no - no, I was
wrong -
Ecstasy was not to be found in the taste of secrets you
kept buried beneath clothes, nor the soft, supple breasts
accentuated by the spongy pink flesh of a nipple, no, ecstasy
was not to be found there -
Ecstasy was not to be found in entry, those first or
last moments of how beautiful our love-making was,
though humbling and astounding and mind-shattering that it was,
no - ecstasy was not to be found there -
Ecstasy, nirvana, the culmination of life, everything in a thousand
worlds rendered nothing before it, every dream and belief I had
a pitiful, miniscule thing held up to the blazing inferno of
your flesh, all of this and a thousand more rendered irrelevant,
no, none of this approached -
Ecstasy was when you looked into my eyes, those beautiful vibrant
sunset eyes aglow, -
Ecstasy was when you told me that you loved me.