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Love

The day is old. Time is forgotten. He leans backwards towards empty as I reach out to him. Our bodies stacked on top of the other unaware of everything but the other. I stretch to meet him. Our lips meet. His kisses are a treasure that I seek. Our tongues diplomats of these two bodies meeting in the middle.

My hands find flesh to explore as tongues ignore boundaries for the explanation of more flesh to compare. Taste and touch.

We soon find our flesh within flesh as our love is shared in the late hours of another day gone. We press against the other as passion grows and into the unknown moments we go towards a future of love’s delight.

Categories: writing

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