We had just had our bodies
washed in the bathtub –
heading bodaciously down to
the living room.

We’re descending the staircase
one step at a time; 
without apparels or maybe just undies
of clone nature. 
We lay
smooches, softly, on our bodies;
licking and biting.
I enjoyed the smooth: the way
he placed both – his hands on my waist line. 
It was so ‘finely’ done. 
I felt comfortable at the way he infiltrated the elastic of
my stringed ‘wear.’ 
He flicked thru the bushy way in an all
merry-go-round manner, 
and then he effortlessly withdrew his hand,
Leaving me,
Crave for more.
He was ‘fifth’ 
on the stair in a ‘descend’ manner, 
and I stood at the ‘fourth,’ 
with by back given to his hands; 
that made me swoon,
For that moment we’d lay on the couch;
Mouths pouted,
As in loving,
Heavenly moans.

I was so tucked in the mood
that I thought he had moved
those hands of his, 
which would cause tingles in my body, 
as a whole. 
So I ran down quickly,
and watched him trip to land on the floor.
He’s dead.
He’s been diked by my whims
and emotions. 
I ran out of him when he was about leaning on
me – maybe for solace, maybe
cause of the cold, 
maybe cause we jingled down this stairway,
maybe cause he was sure of safety, 
maybe love is ‘posed to be a fable, 
maybe it’s ‘posed to cause a spurt; 
of tears, in-between joy.

This is exactly two years after this happened. 
I have been hauling those images of how it happened,
So quick and flashy,
We had never wanted the love making to end so quickly,
But you died, all owed to my lust, maybe.

- Uwen Precious Ogban