The long stemmed rose you bought me
has found a new home...
My corset at the edge of the bed,
kisses your vest...and the Bach's prelude begins...
Our lips banter across the length of
our thirsty bodies, your tongue fumbles
then recovers and claims the moistened rose,
now scented with a new fragrance. Afterwards,
I glance at your languid form, willing myself
not to taste the rose blooming on your thigh.
Three Word Wednesday