This Heat
That reminds me of you
This heat
Brings back memories
Of you and me
Lying together
Naked pleasures
Engulfed in the heat of the day
Bodies wet
From the sweat
Generated by the heat of the moment
Slow movements
Precise and deliberate
Touching your body repeatedly
Thighs like silk
Nipples erect
Lips, moist
Cool breeze from the window cools our souls
As I climb
Between your thighs
You feel me rise
Inside you
Firm
Passionate plunge long awaited
Your soul melts
Your clitoris gyrates
From the vibration of the two of us
In this heat of the day
That reminds me of you
🎧 From my lips to your ears…
🎤 Spit and Ink: A Live Poetry Exchange (Open Mic)
Co-hosted by The Speechless Poet & Melissa “justME” Ellis
Next event: August 11 at 8PM EST
All poets of all genres and experience are welcome.
Come for the poetry. Stay for the AfterWORDS!
AfterWORDS: This Heat
The Weather as Muse
Not every poem starts with a person or a memory or a conversation that sparks something. This one started with the temperature. A hot summer day in Maryland. The kind of humid, oppressive heat that slows everything down and makes the air feel thick enough to touch. And somewhere in that heaviness, a memory surfaced. That’s all it took. The weather reached into the past and pulled someone forward.
That’s one of the most honest things about desire. It doesn’t announce itself. It arrives through side doors. A song. A smell. A season. A particular quality of afternoon light. This poem is about what happens when summer does that to you.
The Sensory Architecture
This poem works differently from most of the catalog because it doesn’t build toward something. It creates something. Every image is physical and atmospheric simultaneously:
“Bodies wet / From the sweat / Generated by the heat of the moment”
The heat outside and the heat between two people become indistinguishable. You can’t tell where the summer ends and the desire begins. That blurring is intentional. The external temperature and the internal one feeding each other until they’re the same thing.
The Form Matches the Feeling
“Slow movements / Precise and deliberate / Touching your body repeatedly”
The short sparse lines aren’t just an aesthetic choice. They perform the poem’s content. Each line arrives and then stops, creating a pause before the next one. The reading experience mirrors the physical experience being described. Deliberate. Unhurried. Present in each moment before moving to the next. The poem breathes the way the scene breathes.
The Cool Breeze
“Cool breeze from the window cools our souls”
This is the most important image in the poem and the easiest to miss. Everything before it is heat. Outside and inside, atmospheric and physical. And then this single line of relief arrives, the breeze cooling not just our bodies, but our souls.
That word choice, souls, elevates the moment beyond the physical without abandoning it. Two people tangled together in summer heat, briefly cooled by the same breeze. There’s something quietly perfect about that image.
Memory as the Real Subject
“In this heat of the day / That reminds me of you”
The closing reframe changes everything. The entire poem, the silk thighs, the erect nipples, the passionate plunge, the melting soul, has been a memory all along. The present tense was an illusion. The heat outside triggered something that felt so vivid, it could only be rendered as if it were happening now. But it isn’t. It happened. And summer keeps bringing it back.
That’s the most intimate thing about this poem. Not the explicit content but the fact that someone is out there in the Maryland heat being reminded of you every single summer.
Why This Belongs in Poerotica
This is one of the quietest poems in the catalog and one of the most complete. No conversation, no invitation, no complex power dynamic. Just a hot day and a memory that refused to stay buried. Desire doesn’t always announce itself with urgency. Sometimes it arrives slowly, like heat rising off pavement, until you’re completely surrounded by it before you even noticed it coming.
“Your soul melts”
That line does everything. The physical and the spiritual collapsing into each other in three words. That’s Poerotica at its most distilled. The body and something deeper than the body, inseparable.
Your Thoughts
Has a season ever pulled someone back to you? A particular kind of heat or cold or rain that lives in your body as memory? What is it about summer that makes desire feel closer to the surface?
Drop a comment. Let’s talk about the weather that reminds us of people we haven’t forgotten.
If you enjoyed this, you might also like:
Escape With Me - Run away with me to a place where only our flesh can exist
Off Rhythm - When someone gets so far under your skin they scramble everything
Just A Thought - A thought you can feel in your body
This was so beautifully hot! I had to read it twice. ❤️
🥵🥵🥵🔥🔥🔥