a thousand wet kisses

It’s late afternoon
in a tropical seaside town.
The curtains are drawn
and the sky is heavy in shades of gray and black.  
Lightning reflects on waterdrops
dancing on the windowpane.

Beneath the stained sheets,
they are wrapped into each other
like famished burmese pythons,
squirming, slithering, and sliding
in an endless loop,
stripped of their personal spaces,
and oblivious to the concepts of space & time.

Thunder
drumbeats the beads of sweat
glistening on their naked bodies.
Consumed by the ecstasy and the madness,
she pounces on him
and devours his scent
like a hungering leopard.
Searing through fumes of abandon and immersion,  
the overwhelming nudity
seeps into their sanctuary
like a molten river of chocolate.
In a teal-colored mug 
trembling on the edge of the bedside table, 
leftover coffee ripples 
to the groans & moans of untethered passion in the room.

They haven’t eaten in eight hours.

Sometime after dusk,
in moments of replete and afterglow,
their numb bodies bask in silence,  
interrupted every other second
by leaking drops of water from the kitchen tap.
She wakes up, 
kisses his nose, 
and licks his thick eyelashes.
She tiptoes across the room, 
slips into her yellow t-shirt and denim shorts,
and sneaks out of the house
gently closing the door behind her.

Within a few seconds of her departure,
he instinctively opens his eyes,
wipes the wet lashes,

listens to the pitter-patter,

and comes back to his senses. 
He darts to the window, opens it,
and watches her walk into the crowded street.
His eyes follow her swinging hips,
as she teases the air
like a gazelle in the lush green savannah.

Warm ocean breeze
from beyond the blinking lighthouse
sprinkles drizzle on her beaming face.  
She tastes the ocean, the salt, the music,
the recklessness, and a thousand wet kisses.