Still
It's that after sex
After a mad dash
After a days hard labor
Where you're quiet, content.
Still
Hints of a Pounding
A deep quivering thrust
Then a
heart beats last giant push
Like A
dying fish's last jump
Moving agaist the water
Lovingly
Still
It's not for not.
It's a cool sheet's touch.
It's a walk in the fog
Knowing your way
Waiting happily at the end.
Still
That low murmer
Like a babies sleeping rumble
Or a winds wrestling a rock
Or a pedals loss of color
Still
To be still and all
Presentable
1 comment:
again, another well composed soft piece.
you write brilliant love poems.
They dont feel forced or cheeesy, but sincere, like its fresh on your mind...
"Where you're quiet, content.
Still
Hints of a Pounding"
this wonderful part seems echoed further with this image
"Like A
dying fish's last jump"
Its sensual, yet dirty.
excellent stuff.
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