I never end,
Nor do I really begin,
A woven plait of fleshy limbs
heated through coiled slumber.
Unremitting extension of one to another curled,
Pulsing skin to skin
I breathe the part of me that's you
bruised lips buss your salty neck
and I am restless with the need to define this ethereal tie,
this fragile castle on tremulous ground
crafted together by blind builders on tenuous tiptoes
We are new each day
delivered from one shared beat
My always is forever you.
2
Share
About the Creator
Deb Simmonds
Creative writer. Women led stories. Crime, dark comedy, lesfic novels and short stories. Poems when the mood takes me.
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.