the strangers

7:06 PM

Their insistent undertones are as excited and impatient as petulant children.
They meet at night, in silence, for the tacit agreement of emergency love.
The act begins.
The walls clamour for the valour of her moans;
uninhibited, melancholic, unashamed.
He clings to every fibre of her realness,
her tangible body,
that which is beautifully flawed.
They are night birds.
Never more familiar and removed from one another.
Fingers tug and rip at buttons, seams, any obstacle in the way of flesh.
Silence remains.
Words would only mar this magnificent duet.
Just touch; the urgency of the ephemeral love is understood.

Enclose me and I will resign myself to you.
Then the walls will clamour for our love
and bemoan the morning when the buttons are fastened once more
and we become strangers again.





-The Frockette

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