Breathing down my neck in the Lincoln Tunnel
your hand slips into mine and squeeze, pull, scratch.
Struck like a match its chemical all over us.
Visceral within our guts.
Fingernails in my back sliding hard, digging trenches.
A foxhole romance, duck and cover, put on helmets.
Fireworks of shrapnel erupt with a BANG.
Bombs away into blackness.
Brace yourself for the rapture.
The cherry on top of my Sunday night
is when I find religion in between your thighs.
Say goodbye to Hollywood and hello to stardom.
Fame awaiting within a girl's crave.
Hit this nail on the head and a savior is made.
I'll take communion while your leg muscles tense,
pressure on each side of my head,
a vise holding in place your saving grace.
Can't contain a grin while the baptism flows harder.
Prayers, calls to God, all growing louder
with each lick and lap,
each twist of my tongue.
Every inch deep another hymn is sung,
screamed out in ecstasy with bells tolling backup.
Slow down just enough to bring you to madness.
See your body rise in the final hour.
Time to devour whats left of our souls,
in a heat even hell couldn't sweat through.
The Devil himself impressed by our passion's proof that
Heaven on Earth is gifted behind zippers,
wrapped up lace, opened by fingers.
You clasp around mine and let loose a battle cry.
Finale found finally under noise and streetlights.
The fight for salvation won and done.
I slide back up you drenched in sweat, spirit numb.
Time to kneel at the alter of exhaustion - just listen.
Our breathing says it all.
With this kiss i christen you reborn under this overpass.
Pure at last.
A saint forever cleansed,
by our backseat mass.
Amen.
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