Our Prisms Of Wet Neon 

Her wetness, a prism, splits what dark ignites,

City lights — a silent scream on rain-dripped glass,

My breasts pierce your velvet back in billboard light,

Storm bends our colors — strangers’ wet dreams pass.

My breasts pierce your velvet back in billboard light,

Rain beats in time with her falling silk—unclasped,

Legs open, our hot reflection—an invite,

City lights — a silent scream on rain-dripped glass.

Legs open, our hot reflection—an invite,

Below eyes—pool; we flash like fireflies, slip grasp,

Their dreams seek our open wings—float in streetlight,

Rain beats in time with her falling silk—unclasped.

Their dreams seek our open wings—float in streetlight,

Our window, a voyeur—her skin—I press—she gasps,

Fog drinks—fingers, thighs, breasts—feasts tonight,

Below eyes—pool; we flash like fireflies, slip grasp.

Our wetness—prisms reflect our crescent moons,

Once two shadows merged, now one, your desire,

Wandering souls below us—gorge, lick, consume,

Our reflections linger in dreams, a raptured choir.