Sunday, 16 October 2011

Its Hard

I dreamed of you
as I lay
in that half light betwixt
night and day…
then way we played

I composed
a quiet symphony
with my lips
on tender breasts
and eager hips

but my hands
they played a fiercer game
and you drenched
my fingers with
honeyed rain

so when our bodies
finally meet
the shapes we formed
grew firm and tight
as one complete

and this embrace
warm and slick
glides and groans into
something more urgent
than playground frolic

unleashed and exploding
into one another
but then I’m awake
with nought but hard memory
of forbidden ardor

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