Confessionally
comfort
is not in form of sweat
nor in movement
but in the creases
of pillows and sheets
white as lies
where i carve my secret
reverie:
no dosage of metaphor
when it comes to you
and the heat
of your lips
pressing
against
mine
and the brace
of your body
warm as your skin and pores
and breath and the touch
of your fingers
on the course of this
spine
and the need
i confess
and plead
guilty in between
your legs
entwined.
Author's note: inspired by Sir John Heck's poem entitled Ewe and Eye.
Copyright © Cayetano Young | Year Posted 2009
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment