Motion Or Still Pulp Fiction?
Location
You lay across the matress.
Head turned to my left.
Your smile spreads like the legs of a woman.
Cheerleading their way out into a full split.
My hands creep forward
Towards your shoulder.
You tell me that it feels wonderful,
And soon you close your eyes.
The relaxation of your breath
Puts both of us at ease.
Your breathing pattern nearly
Craddles me to slumber
But only a number of moments remain
For I am about to slain your lion's den.
My thumb pretends to be an assassin;
Preying on the point of the mountain.
My left hand slides on her jawline;
Slightly grabbing her chin.
CRACK! Her neck crumbles
And her eyes backflips to the back of her head.
Her fingers become relaxed.
Her muscles were retired from their work.
Her collasps.
Moving from her body,
Her smile still intact like botox.
She opens her eyes and says
"Now, that was the spot."
Am I dreaming?
Is this being high off of my motion
Or stuck in pulp fiction?
-Lauren Pointer