“Slowly,” she whispered
Not expecting any reprise,
“Slowly,” he uttered
His immediate reply.
Neither touching the other
As if countries in a cold war,
Yet so close they feel their heat,
Luring them closer, desparate to explore.
So gradual, they see their pulses,
The beat frequencies increase
They move toward each other,
Becoming desperate for release.
Moving one pulse at a time,
And the equivalent distance,
Eyes grow cloudy from need,
Both are putting up resistance.
Enternity passes as passion builds,
Then the touch surprises both,
Not expecting the rush of built up feelings
They disregard their previous oath.
Hands blur from their speed
As if they are learning to touch again,
They mold into each other,
Finally able to love again.
“Slowly,” he muses,
Her head upon his chest,
“Slowly,” she giggles quietly,
Both now ready to rest.
