deepundergroundpoetry.com
Drowsy
Its not the way in which he gently taps his fingers upon the length of my spine as he inhales the scent of us that's infused the air.
Its not the way he grips my hips and traces my lips with his tongue whilst seeking to sate his ferocious hunger.
No.
Its not the way he has me cycling up and down his delirium all night long until he's exhausted himself.
Its not the way he pins me up against the wall at 3am after we've spent the evening exploring ourselves all over one another.
No.
Its the way he makes me feel when I close my eyes and all I see and feel is you, and his heart sinks because he knows that I'm not present in his presence.
I'm ten thousand miles away, somewhere with you, drowsy and content.
Its not the way he grips my hips and traces my lips with his tongue whilst seeking to sate his ferocious hunger.
No.
Its not the way he has me cycling up and down his delirium all night long until he's exhausted himself.
Its not the way he pins me up against the wall at 3am after we've spent the evening exploring ourselves all over one another.
No.
Its the way he makes me feel when I close my eyes and all I see and feel is you, and his heart sinks because he knows that I'm not present in his presence.
I'm ten thousand miles away, somewhere with you, drowsy and content.
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