It's quiet now
But I was deep in the midst of a passing storm
My only eveidence, the pool of rapture that surrounds me
Along with the puddle Eve left in my navel
Small the puddle may be, but it still holds nectar from the watery onslaught Eve threw upon me in reckless abandon
I call her Eve because she devours me as if I'm the forbidden apple
As I lay with my eyes to the ceiling, I feel her crawling towards me, ready to take another bite
This time, to the core
I taste the remains of the deposit she left in my navel
Sweet puddle, indeed
I feel no languish as she shares a gaze, then mounts & gives me entry
I brace myself for another storm
