Sex

A woman is never more beautiful than after sex,
When her flesh is flush like the blushing cheeks of a peach
And her skin is not only hers, possessed in many ways,
The smell of her lover lingers.
A couple is never more together than after sex
When their heaving sighs catch light in wandering eyes and meet
Half way in between themselves, and wind
Together like vines or fingers.
The world is never more vast than after sex
All leveled low by the glow of passions burning on familiar horizons
And lust departs on new wings, leaving bodies
Strewn like cocoons on the branches of night.
A man will never love a woman more than after sex
Though declined or denied, The space inside widens
To make way for unspoken endearment of Self
Given for the sake of giving, wrong or right.