Not His Name

Not His Name

I knew then I would always remember the last few hours...
Not his name, or the taste of him, but how I felt
As his questing lips grazed my throat
Skin touching, speaking in velvet silence
Fingers drawing sensual pictures
To paint desire in vivid colors
Arching taut, the bow strung
Ready for flight, soaring
Triumphant shouts
Repletion a quiet thief
Nothing more left to do
Nothing more left to say
And so we went our separate ways.