Three Lovers

You, the beautiful myth, distant and shimmering,
you join me as his constant lover, see me curve into
and against him, my calves meeting at the small
of his back, my fingers contrasting brown
against his pale skin.

You and I, a tangle of sheets and jealousy
and painful desire for the same man. Yet, here,
with only your fantasy to soothe me,
I ask if my tongue could desire a nipple
other than yours, would it stand the salt
of any other skin?

There is a question in the imprint my lips left
just above the soft line where your hair kisses
his smooth belly when you glide up and over him.
Do you know that when his strong fingers slide
into me, it is your moist warmth he feels, your swollen
mouth that opens on the deep moan?

As he moves further into me, he comes infinitely closer
to your glorious depth. And as my dark lips take his length,
it is only your taste I swallow. Your body is a luscious
and lasting dream as my thick thighs straddle him,
my breasts full and soft casting shadows against the sheets
and his eyes squeezed shut.

Each time I arch, hair like water falling away
from my face, eyes black, mouth dry and gasping,
I conjure your clasping hands and heaving breasts
as I rise and rise and rise until
it is your name we scream.

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**This post is part of Five for Ten, where we're giving each other five minutes a day for ten days. Won't you join us?**