This poem is not about sex, I assure you.
He lets me in to the hollow sphere
where love is required like a key
to the door.
I nuzzle into the couch's skin
Buried in what's real,
Embracing what I've yet to reach.
He holds me, arms full of care and muscle.
Reading my aching thoughts and body with his hands.
The unorthodox answer to my prayer.
He envelopes me in his trust
and allows me into the spot in his shoulder
where I am safe.
The night trods on and begs me to notice
But his strength overtakes me
And I laugh in Tomorrow's face.
Whatever happens then, it cannot, will not be as providencial as
Tonight.
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1 comment:
that is very sweet and if i didn't already know the story, the note at the beginning would've been very necessary.
but the poem is great
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