a poem by Gratiana Lovelace, 1/17/12
What is this power of skin that delights us so,
Long after our delights have ebbed?
We lay abed with each other for some time after
Languorously, lovingly, lustfully.
Needing still, to feel each other near.
I stroke your chest beneath your just right few hairs.
Your skin is smooth like mine, yet different.
Warm to my touch, supple and sinewy,
Your skin is mine to feel whenever I want,
Especially after my wants are fulfilled.
My place is cuddling in the crook of your left arm.
I minimize myself such that lying on my side,
I do not seem to lie taller than your broad chest.
It is an illusion of cushioned mattress padding,
That I sink into, which levels our bodies.
But no matter, it is our skin on skin contact that is vital.
Our heads and our shoulders, our chests and our arms,
Our hips and our thighs, my knee slightly bent over yours.
My lower leg and foot leaning on yours, seeking yours,
An unbroken pathway of touch.
Our lips kiss sweetly as we cuddle.
Our tongues seek each other a little,
But not as urgently as we kissed,
When our loving was before us.
Now spent, our kisses are slow and tender.
We must arise soon from our bed,
To tend to our daily needs of meals and such.
But let us not part ourselves and our bodies,
Oh please, not yet. For my skin, needs your skin,
Our contact a loving connection through touch.
(1) Poem title logo skin background was found at http://www.richardarmitagenet.com/images/gallery/RobinHood/album/seasontwo/Episode3/slides/rh203_108.html
(2) “The Happy Lovers” painting by Jean Honore Fragonard (1732- 1806) was found at http://artloversonline.imagekind.com/store/imagedetail.aspx/9e8ba508-a74d-4ce9-a2dd-d2c39fee1c65/The_Happy_Lovers_by_JeanHonore_Fragonard