Love Making

There is a rhythm in your fingers stroking my neck when we kiss.
Last night they touched me gently as you nibbled on my ear.
Brushing my chest playfully, they danced to the blues;
Your nimble fingers, they stirred upward
Sending shivers down my spine.
We were taking it slow.
Slowly the grip tightened, it made me wince
And left a dull patch on my neck,
As I, cold, drooped in profound slumber.
The music changed.