There is a time for us.
There is a time for us.
Fingers making dimples on skin
naked backs, beginning sin
Our bodies are lines, we do converge
to the sweetest place
a breathless space.
You sigh and tremble.
I use my mouth to hunt your grin
and close my eyes against the spin.
I love the way it makes us race.
We find new skin and curves to trace.
On dance floors, bedrooms, a front porch,
heat enough to start a torch
This is what I think of, wherever she might sit…
soft small lips
athletic hips
It's not a thing I'm ashamed to admit.
7 comments:
Love it! I could picture it perfectly!
I like your poem.
It has substance.
I also could picture it perfectly.
Take care,
Frances
Dance floors are my personal favorite. I loved your poem.
Cool poem
'beginning sin'
:)
Very clever.
Beginning sin....
Excellent
Nice job. I'm interested in reading more.
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