Damsel in This Dress

Cradling my round face within huge tatted hands,
He blows particles of doubt out of diverted eyes,
Sending mascara-laden lashes fluttering about
Like tiny wings of distressed black butterflies.

Twenty degrees shy of uncertainty,
In an alley I sway with each measured kiss
Anointing my sin-tinted, twitching lids,
Sparking the darkness with pious bliss.

Split tongue parting reluctant thick lips,
Slithering from teeth to gums and cheek,
Muffling dire moans that beg escape,
He renders me barely able to speak.

Jellied crotch bouncing on anonymous wood,
I release repressed fury in restricted space.
We thrash pale and brown hips in unison,
Like cymbals crashing at a rapid pace.