Your words set deep in my aching bones,
like fresh moss to aging stones.
Your touch feather light across my knees,
like feelings uttered in a summer breeze.
My body craves your wandering hands,
like a moth to a flame in the coldest lands.
My eyes seek your chocolate coated orbs,
like fortune tellers in the depths of crystal *****
Apr 9, 2015
Apr 9, 2015 at 11:52 AM UTC
Your words set deep in my aching bones,
like fresh moss to aging stones.
Your touch feather light across my knees,
like feelings uttered in a summer breeze.
My body craves your wandering hands,
like a moth to a flame in the coldest lands.
My eyes seek your chocolate coated orbs,
like fortune tellers in the depths of crystal *****
(18 November 2011)
