Poetry

Aftermath (poem)

Lying together in the aftermath, my legs spread and shaking, you laying on top of me and in me

We’re still in the glow, catching our breaths, the heat still high and our sweat mingling together

I’m running my fingers lightly up and down your back from your neck to your hip, you like it, you’re purring

I feel your warmth dissipating inside me as I hold you close with your face in my neck and your legs in between mine

You closed your eyes when we climaxed together but I watched every microexpression, I wanted to know you

I cannot see your face, I’m wondering what your thinking and feeling as we lie entwined in silence

I already know you’ll be laying beside me when we wake but you won’t really be here, I miss you already

I wrap my legs around you and hold you tighter to prolong this moment and memorize every part of you

I want to imprint upon you these passing few seconds so that you will remember me long after you’ve forgotten me

You raise your head, look at me, and smile

14 thoughts on “Aftermath (poem)”

  1. Whoaaah, I was not expecting that sudden flash reveal. It is really something, just to be thrust (pardon the expression) right into the heart of it and be kept there, almost locked-in. Not just passion but goosebumps-inducing INTIMACY. Wonderfully written. Wonderfully, wonderfully written.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thank you! I’ve been waiting for you to comment on this one. I was looking forward to what you would say because I thought you would really enjoy it. It came to me randomly, but it’s filled with truth. I wanted to capture that very specific moment, the one we often don’t think about. This one I’d like to get published somewhere, I think. I’m proud of it.

      Liked by 1 person

      1. It plays out like a slow but heavily meaningful scene scene, barely more than few movements, but it comes through loud and clear. You should definitely send this places. I can see it going places.

        Liked by 1 person

      2. Not even a slow scene really, but a moment. A solitary moment where thoughts are raging. But one can picture the before and after.

        Liked by 1 person

      3. I wanted to say snapshot, but there is movement here as well. Minute movements, twitches even, but movement nonetheless. Because the piece does carry despair felt for the passage of time, that’s why I said “scene” rather than a “snapshot.”

        Liked by 1 person

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