Sayan Basak
You lay with the window open wide,
the curtains licking the air.
Two bodies merged as one,
entwined in limbs, sweat and wind,
bedraggled breaths roll from your throat.
I watch as you press your pink fleshy lips to his.
Your head dipping habitually to where his hand rests on your shoulder.
The smile spreads slowly across your face as he strokes your cheek with an outstretched forefinger.
You take it in your mouth, as though it were a stick of rock.
Sweet as honey,
as sweet as the grin that emblazons your face.
A lone strand of hair sticks to your glistening forehead.
He moves it with a stroke of his hand, as though this small act of love were nothing to him.
Your eyes widen as you press your body against his,
biting your lower lip, as if this ecstasy were about to make you burst.
He looks away, the wind blowing through his hair; Mr Cool.
You grab his crotch
craving his attention.
It is yours now.
Oh lucky you.
Enjoy it while you can my love.
For neither of you will see tomorrow.
You will both become dust, trapped in the wind,
blowing through an open window into a room of treachery.