Fits Of Mirth

dimples and laugh lines - evidence of the journey i embarked upon for a particular kind of madness that i created on your skin, hair and teeth. you collapsed,
twitching, clutching at your seams venting all your colliding thoughts as if you were consummating seismic encounters with the earth and erupted, effervescent tears, in fits of joyous mirth.i watched you giving birth to vibrations of euphoria as i spoke on, giving you the tiniest details of those rose petals that once popped out of my eye...
to this day,
you still describe to me how it felt when i ejaculated into you those sweet and sour seeds of humour and, with a pensive face, i tickled your sole with a moist, wiggling tongue.
how you struggled for breath in between my descriptions of that one Tuesday night when i fed myself love with a teaspoon through my belly button and felt the guilt of a glutton...
that, my dear, is one of my joys of livingthe gift of receiving and the sanctity of giving...