Knowing the Secret of You
I inhale, my chest full of you, and relax
into knowing the secret of you.
My lips are kissed by your soul
and my want, embraced by your thighs.
I see your colours, and taste
the reason that you are.
You smell of memories as I nestle
into your womb and turn back
the clock to learn you all over
again.
And the gossamer threads of your hair keep
me safely wrapped about your bosom
while I suckle at the honey dew
that blankets your skin.
You share all that you are, and more than
your sum with me. You are my orchestra
of sound and my eyes for seeing.
You write my story day and night.
But, most of all, you never let me
caress empty pockets of time
alone.
Copyright © Terry Robinson | Year Posted 2016
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