Something Borrowed

"All my little plans and schemes,
lost like some forgotten dreams..." - The Beatles

To the fluid throbs of taut bass strings

She spins at arm's extended length,

Released it seems for extra beats

As we waltz to my internal clock.

And when it slows she does draw near,

Until our outlines blur, and colorblind

I see her pupils merge into her irises,

Moonless pools which offer my demise.

Her whispers echo the subtle tactile

Glide of her lips against my cheek

And her satin gown's slip between our thighs,

I the envy on the mouths of all the room.

My lines rehearsed as parking brake is set,

I look to find her door now shuts; without

backward glance she climbs porch steps,

as a pair of eyes from an upstairs window downward stares.