If the definition of orgasm is “little death”then
I have died many times.
Languishing in a hazy afterglow of pleasure.
Limbs weak and rendered temporarily useless...like rubber.
Skin flushed rose, lips full and red.
Smooth contours of breast and hip and collar bone....
Luminous in their beauty....
Illuminated beneath the watchful gaze of the moon as she peeps through the hastily drawn curtain.
Voyeur to the erotic and wild beauty of fluid bonding.
I have “died “ many times.
And yet I smile an indulgent knowing smile.
Soon I will experience my “little death”once again.