This is one of the Types of Poetry. A poem about the barriers of this thing called "love". Types of Poetry
We Whisper Out Our Names
by
Richard A. McCullough
The flower that blossoms red lips in the moonlight was her name.
Through the window a cool face of cream white, its pocked reflection was our inspiration.
And we clung there as twin, vine hot roses.
I clutched the bedpost against the agony and she my back with hot fingernails scraping, and we clung there reveling in our semen, loving our organs against the night, whispering to confine our love between the paper walls, least it be lost in the knowing.
Moonlight through the shade in the guise of street light falls upon our feet, curled and callused clutching.
Humping, her knees are bent to fire my waist and her face is clad in crimson, my dark mouth to march in clutching dampness and smother out the glow.
We clung and came to the edge and shrank back to the shelter of our own hot skins.
Liquid kisses to mark the path of where we had been.
We were clothed in tear sweat, loving, clutching with lustful muscles to become one but never there is no time.
We are of separate spaces but still we may cling in wishing, we may cling and cry "I love you," but still we whisper out our names.
