the rules of the game are four of a kind

A photo of four silver teaspoons on a white background. They are glowign slightly from left to right in the colours of the rainbow.

by Rosie Bogumil
Content warning: NSFW

two teaspoons cradle one another
shifting to and fro to share
in the art of spooning
while wrapped in the mechanics
of steady breathing.
hers long and calming
mine short and gasping,
struck as i am by the music of life 
in all its sensuous symphonies.
sensations of sight and sound collide:
the bright pastels of her bralette
as sharp as the luscious scrapings
of our tongues against our teeth.
i struggle to unlock the hinge
reprimanding the breadth of her breasts,
so she uses me as a model and
with subtle sweeps of her lips 
she teaches me how to cuddle,
how to disguise the fumbling
that comes with undressing,
how to show another woman
that you know what you’re doing.
pretending at professional
is far more pleasurable.
cackling cicadas serenade
the virginity from our bodies
while we roll over one another
like playful children
only with deeply adult thoughts
suspended between us.
once the heat of desire has cleared
i turn to face her silhouette. 
whispered sorrys stir eddies 
into a fog-cloud of warmth.
i missed my summer storm.
i reach out a languid arm 
but beside me i find 
only an empty imprint 
embedded in the mattress
and the whisper of a memory
escaping through the window,
like a shadow returning home.