deepundergroundpoetry.com

Supine ruminations

It was that day:  
When you told me my  
stomach was your safe place.  
 
It was that day.  
I looked down, sick with desire,  
straining against your attention  
as, with eyes closed,  
you reverently  
kissed the lines  
on my  
abdomen,
and, almost in earnest,  
rubbed your cheek against the  
slight dip at my naval,  
your arms wrapped all the way
around my body,  
my back slightly arched under  
your arms.  
 
In that one moment we were still.  
 
It was then I knew I was really fucked.  
 
Because in the stillness,  
I traced your face with my fingertips,  
ran my hands through your hair  
and fought the urge  to
hide you from the world,  
just for a moment.  
 
As if you were the vulnerable one,  
as if I could shield you.  
 
When I look back on that day,  
part of me is still again,  
poetically stricken by the overwhelming emotions,  
the futility of those soft feelings,  
and enraptured by that moment  
which captured me forever.  
 
And part of me looks back  
and screams...
 
run.
Written by Betty
Published
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