Sex is like a poem,
Everyone can write,
But how unique and sensual is yours,
Teasing and fleeting,
Warm breath on her neck,
Cosmic journey to the sacred clown,
From which we come forth,
Indescribable,
But we try to remember together,
Fingerprints inside square boxes,
Left as a record of our moments,
So poetry isn\'t granted it is earned,
Felt and believed,
Cherished and worried about,
Image, and games only last until
You are alone again,
And only your voice is heard,