Can’t Fight Nature

I walked up the dark wooden steps to Jason’s porch. I’ve been fighting the inevitable that he was mine and I was his. As I reached for the brass bell that hung on the worn door, there he was. He was there in the door frame. His body blocked the light behind him. His parents had cut him out of midnight and wrapped him in cotton. His skin was melted chocolate and I planned to be his coffee. Those dark almond eyes had me stuck right where I stood. In seconds he hand me in his arms. 

      Color coordinate my love. Red and passionate. Blue and cold. Yellow and happy. Purple and bold. Color coordinate my fingers to match your spots to my spots to our love making on the front balcony. Under the cob webs where spiders play. Daddy long legs kiss their pets before dinner. Mother nature speaks to her children. Winds sound like coyotes in the distance. Someone is enjoying someone else while we play our drums upon each others hips. Bellowing our dedication to our intertwined toes. Thunder booms as the winds of the night catch my breath and take me with them. Lightening cracks, the tree bark is a fire. Here comes the rain, it drizzles down my thighs. Here we are drenched and satisfied. 

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