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Burlesque  photo

BURLESQUE

~a contrapuntal poem

He was a friend he became my lover he took my hand he touched my skin guided me out of the car guided me into his bed the show that night was tender, a burlesque the curve of my breast matched the curve of the dancer’s breast his hand – large enough to cup tassled and twirling my mind cascaded, sequins and shining his touch scattering, my lipsticked mouth stretched wide eyes alive in ecstasy with delight by the end of the night his body mirrored mine we clung to one another our breath shallow our hearts pounded our skin glossy, blood pumped the rhythm of the music throbbed in our veins pulled us intill reality melted away.