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Make Out Meditation

Her breaths of pleasure fell on the sides
of my neck, she waywardly turned and
the breath, warm as red, brushed my nape,
I shock-waved my body into existence.

Dragon breaths fired on each other’s necks
and once in awhile her hair would make way
into my mouth, but I wouldn’t mind. Our faces
stuck at each other’s cheeks on sideways of the head.

The camisole, a furnace, burnt with the heat
her body emanated continuously, so hot it
stupefied me. I enquired, she said it was alright,
that it was normal blistering of the sun in her.

The shutter of my eyes, shut itself, when
the lips pursed and touched in the storm of
two monsters fighting as if they loved each other.
The apparent sweetness of souse, felt

like endless arena of water battles. The
air that the fan crushed unto us, in vain of
its attempts to evaporate sweat from our chests.
Our cheeks lovably kept caressing each other.

The highs and the lows, the gasps,
touches of the toes, the moans of lightning excitations.
The interwreathes of the flowers of her finger scrolls
on my back. The pleasantries exchanged in
silence that night drew upon us.

In a twinkling of the end, there was a blank slate
the black and the white boards swiped to their
lengths and breadths. A staunch mark in each
other, they had left, of fleeting pleasure and

what had begun on the speed of yeast outgrowth
vanished quicker than the passing of the present moment,
Their stare deserted each other and with benevolent
hands on each other’s heads, they began to meditate.