One bead of sweat
Accumulates on your forehead
Atop the beautiful face you washed
Before getting into bed.
The passion, an all time high
As was the tension tight
The time for release will be soon
In the cold, dark, middle of the night.
The lonely bead has grown enough to start its descent
Over the brow and down your cheek
Splitting the bite marks on your neck
Slowing betwixt your twin peaks.
Joining the droplets below
Moving faster with every thrust
I know the cool trickle tickles
A sacrifice for lust.
Reaching its destination
Just beyond his glistening shaft
Fusing with the liquid passion
Of which he\'s contributed half.