THOSE WHO CAN'T DO...2 of 4

Love still stands when all else has fallen
two inches or ten
finger size or hand
when feeling goes away
mini me stands up to be counted
the thrusts start shallow and seem never ending
then the pace picks up
with everything
my voice and yours
a testimony themed call and response
The bed squeaks
the walls groan
only time will tell how me drowning in my sorrows
and you swallowing your pain whole
will lead to a dis remembering
of what was once a beautiful duo of you and I
Such is the nature of the breakup sex.

THOSE WHO CAN'T DO...

If sounds had a meaning, moans would be the most beautiful language
Reserved for those moments when everything goes right.
when those little touches and gestures all day long
are but foreplay for the grand event
subsequent union coming as no surprise
the oil, lingerie and whipped cream
all but props for the occasion
one that can best be described by
moans and groans, slow and aplenty
that masks the gyrates and slow slides
made more pleasurable by the lineal alignments of all the erogenous regions
the mouth a power station
transmitting those sparks of electricity
to first one lip,
then the other,
behind the ear,
then the neck
and inevitably
when all that's left is ecstasy, my name and your moans
that is when we get the nature of the special sex