Tin Drum Poem by Kewayne Wadley

This isn't appropriate,
The way we tease each others eyes
The way we look when no one is around.
The small pitter patter of hearts becoming loud
Echoing through the thoughts that race through our heads
Contentious thoughts that beckon to be heard
Brushed across our lips in an ultimate silence.
A touch, blind
Falling like rain,
Meeting a desire that thirsts.
Internally
Crying desperately to be heard.
Covering everything in sight until true desire is met.
An orgasm of percussion
Pouring
Crashing down, pounding like drums
The sound of our hearts.
The very beads of desire that drip
Dinging against our hearts like a drum.
Without means to see
it becomes inappropriate.
As soon the rain stops