Tuesday Morning

Between these luscious thighs,
the back of a lover’s head
is held firmly in place
while riding undulating waves
originating from his face.

Without effort, much to my surprise
the recalling of poetic words from another voice
still sends me to the highest point of ecstasy,
wishing it was your body, your hands holding me close
But this out loud, I cannot confess.

Mouthing a few of my favorite verses,
cutting through the heart of all this longing,
determined not to make a single sound,
it’s the risk I dance
between two loves that leave me spellbound.

The greatest pleasure
of this poetic-filled fantasy
has been served with a side of guilt,
despite all efforts spent
on a connection to be rebuilt.

Such passionate association
with sensuous reverberations,
it’s a habit I never want to break.
If only, if only I could hear it in my ear
while I lie here and quake.

This is one of the reasons why listening to poetry is preferred… try listening to poetry before (or while) reading the print version. You’ll be able to experience the poem as the poet intended.

3 responses to “Tuesday Morning”

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