If I
Were the sun
And you
Were the morning
I would
First
Enter you.
Partially
Meeting
Some resistance
Stop,
And then push
Naked trees
Finger nails
In my back
While birds cry
A whimper
That you bury
In my neck.
Thrust,
And you moan,
Like branches
Rubbing
Until
Joy overcomes
Pain with
Warmth.
Deep within.,
An animal sound
Rises,
But reaches your lips
With the satisfied sigh
Of the breeze,
Which stirs clouds
Stained red
With your maiden blood.
