To greet with a meaty embrace,
to meet your face, as earthy clay,
softly cupped in kneading hands.
As flesh obscures pale want
beneath envelopes of skin and hair,
Where bone drives to crying bone,
sounds curling overhead at twilight,
as smoke from your usual fire.
eclipsing the sparkling stars
entangled in long bronze hair,
spun from loose filaments
to rest on thin shoulders
All you resist, comes back
then forward again,
cyclic, resurrecting, inventing
and reinventing;
carnating, dying, soaring
yet always back to that soft, soft place
where lovers meet,
pipes skirling, overheard at midnight.
hands kneading breast, as though dough
women knowing better, an saying so.
but, what the hell, cheese is chess
and the last time a test dropped
I played to not regrets.
Because the only friend is a neutred serial killer.

I like that line, fallon... k
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Thanks k, i like all the lines.
Hope this one continues...f
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sorry, I'm a bit slow... k