(c) Recital: Act I

Standard

Nothing tastes as sweet as your first.

With the silver moon as your witness,
Its light casting shadows, forming silhouettes
Of bodies that glisten, stripped down to its naked glory,
–vulnerability.

Love is a world waiting to be discovered
as you move towards each other
with bated breaths,
hesitant steps,
fingers slowly intertwined.

Little by little,
you become the other,
and the other
becomes you.

No prodigy can paint this masterpiece
even with kisses—soft, gentle kisses—
that trace your every outline,
every curve and every corner of your body,
your temple,
trying to memorize the beauty that is you,
but in vain.

You begin to transform into dancers,
moving in perfect rhythm,
full of grace immersed in this dance,
to the music of your beating hearts.

With every push and pull,
the arching of your back,
you move in accelerando,
going deeper and deeper
into the house of Desire,
passion burning in your eyes,
as you learn its ways and shed skin
marked with remnants of the past.

Your fingers curl, driving into the skin,
before you cry out in ecstasy,
both silent and loud,
of pain and pleasure,
waking villages,
cities,
continents.

After the music stops,
its curtains are raised,
doors are opened,
and no same person emerges from it.

 

I made this poem for our Poetry Seminar class. It’s supposed to be an Erotic poem. What do you think about it? Was it effective as an erotic poem? Objective criticisms are very much welcome.

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