You recline,
Peaceful in the aftermath of love.
Even now
I have to touch.
To caress the fall
Of your red silk mane
To stroke the lines
Of your perfect form.
Oh, did I wake you?
No matter.
I’ll soothe you with kisses.
Now your hands are on me,
Broad and calloused and making me quiver,
And I laugh.
You’re wanting again!
Ah, Ciaran, how can I resist?
So again I go to you.
We rejoice in each other.