eyelid stage curtains rise
before the sun
mistaking
my streetlight dreams of you
for that which
wakes the world to life
sleeping in a bed
without your body beside me
is an empty gesture
recently left impressions
still warm upon the sheets
i slink
slipslide
to your side
of the world
hoping the scent of your skin
still lingers in the thread count
our memories hidden under the soft white pillows
i am writhing beneath
your beat
pounded metal drum lovers
sewn to the mattress
unable
unwilling
in my wanting
to move from this moment
our moans become jazz
bra straps pulled from my shoulders
nightgown torn at the thigh
you lift me to your mouth
crashing lips into my hips
tongue conquering me
our kisses an act of delicious war
i am happy to be slammed
face down
prone
to every inch of you
coming together
inside through and covering
this unending ache
for the
sunday morning
fuck poem
8 replies on “sunday morning”
Wow… 🙂
Ha! Yes, wow, indeed…it was a fun poem to write, hallucinatingmartyr!
Awesome 🙂
alicia ~ the sultry and the sensual..you have the balance deliciously..just..right ;))
Alicia ~ the sultry and the sexy..you have the balance deliciously..just..right ;))
Thank you, kindly…
Alicia, your words ALWAYS amaze me, make me feel like a complete amateur! Beautiful poem!
That is humbling…you are too kind. No such think as amateur poetry…every poem changes the world…and the writer. Ink spills the same way no matter who knocks over the well…keep writing.