Marked

The hands that travel down my skin,

Graced by your fingertips,

This feels like a sublime sin,

To be touched on the lips,

Your passion that stays close,

Our bodies together,

Forming a rose,

Or an intricate feather,

Each of our beings,

Interuptted by a short parting,

Is nothing to fear is what I believe I'm seeing,

Always to have these temporary markings.

 

 

 

 

 

Comments

MVP-Most Valuable Poet

well said

how's everything

Black Wings

Getting stronger everyday. How are you?

upnorthdavid

Lovely, beautiful expression

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