Saturday, 17 November 2012



Starving hands
trace the parts of me
that ebb and flow,
dip their famished fingers alongside
ravenous toes into honey
that promises sweetness to taste; to run
soft and clear, enough
to sate, and so generously nourish;
…temperate heartbeats and arms,
consider half-wants to cherish, and gently,
they lay them aside;
is the only thing that matters
tonight, and tomorrow
there will be infinite, beautiful time
for talking and words enough…
this tender moment
there is nothing
more important
to discuss
than veiled desires
just barely revealed;
…for nothing was ever
more precious and true
as the way that this hunger feels.

No comments:

Post a comment