Mamita
He turns me into
A wide-eyed little child
And he is my favorite game-
It goes like; he holds me close,
His fingers in my hair...
His breath is steady, matches mine,
His heart beats in my ear...
Now if I stroke his skin
With my fingertips, will the
Beat of his heart quicken?
If I press myself more closely
To him, will the warmth
Of his skin rise?
If I trace the outline
Of his lips, will he murmer
"Mamita..."
Softly?
Copyright © Cameron Hartley | Year Posted 2014
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