Little death

Silence in a room

With dimmed lights,

Every blink

Can be heard.

Every button torn

Of the shirt

Throws echoes

Against the empty walls.

Hot lips

Heat up the skin,

Waking up the feeling

Just a little

Below the stomach.

Inhale.

Shaking limbs

Are hard to control;

Holding on to the

Alternate reality

Of the pulsing energy

Is paradoxically draining

And invigorating.

Longing for every extra second

Of what is to come.

Tearing through the last

Layers of obstacles;

Exhale.

Two merge into one,

Accelerating the unity.

No breathing.

Convulsions

Are creating an earthquake

Inside the room;

Drowning in the waves

And embracing this death,

This little death.

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