On a good day, I have less to write about. Because, truly, pain and desire are the potent mixture that fuels my poetry.
But on these days of contentment, I find my mind slipping to the thought of you. Whomever, you may be. Whether I’ve met you or not. Just the thought that these are the times I want to share. The darker times I need. These are the times I want. If the difference is clear.
Today is a day in the sun. A few hours of good. I wish I could share them with you in my arms.
Suns blocked rays filter in the dark and grey
each second reminding me of the wider world without
though within the desolate heart
remains broken amidst the ruins of the past
The soft gentle press of your lips
The touch of your hands
My hands through your hair
The gentle curve of your neck
The soft mound of your breast
The hairs on your arm shivering
the taste of you on my tongue
The smell of you lingering in my nostrils
Your breathe catches
Your pleasure at my mercy
Your dirty mind
Your sweet dreams
Your desires fulfilled
Your hungers satisfied
Your screams of my name