Le Petite Mort

You take me
With skill,
With strength
With the power of lust

Knowing what you want
And how to get it

To feel the power of your body
Against mine

Head thrown back, body arched
I feel your warm breath
Against my thighs

Just before your lips
Reach the ridge of mine
I watched you
gently blow
Like a too hot cup of coffee

Your hot breath sliding over me
Feeling like soft silk exposed
Making my body respond with abandon

I sense nothing
But you and the promise
Of your body to mine, taunting me
To think of nothing but

The moment

The moment when my body meets yours
In a crashing wave of exquisite pleasure

The kind that rips
The satiated breath from our chests
Sweet reminders
Of all that was said and done

Making us feel so alive
We could die

Le Petite Mort



dVerse ~ Poets Pub : OpenLinkNight Week 74


22 thoughts on “Le Petite Mort

  1. okay…I’m blushing…just a little fly that landed on the wrong wall ๐Ÿ˜‰ Not going to say it isn’t awesome…and not saying blushing’s bad… ๐Ÿ™‚

  2. I’ve always been amazed that the French (not to mention Chaucer and Shakespeare) referred to one of the most life-affirming actions in that way. Beyond that, I have no choice but to second bajanpoet’s motion.

    • I know, I’ve always been amused by that comparison myself. Years ago, I do recall reading somewhere that certain cultures believe each time a person climaxes a year of life is lost, that is a little death.

      Thanks Bob.

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