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Dream, Declined.

I would liken it to
a sudden dance of a cliche romantic book
where two lovers dance.
She, wearing a silken dress
of no less than the finest threads
is seduced by him and he
lands his hands in the small of her back
barely missing the roundness of what she does not lack
His fingers glide smooth
over the suppleness of the silk
gripping a small taste
like a kitten to the last drop of milk
and she giggles, flaunts a bit
has one last twhirl before she has to sit
he, intrigued, grabs that piece of fabric-
and it glides through hands like lotion
on a hard dick.
Just like that, poof! The reverie begins to awake
and suddenly what he grabbed on to, begins to shake
he can't keep the rhythm, stumbling to keep her flow
she two steps and dances in circles around, no time to slow
feeling satisfied, she hits the signature move by the last stance
and he sits there, still remembering that slip in in his fingers of that
last dance.

Dream, Declined.



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