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ju
Poems
Oct 2011
(muse) hem
I pull the sweater further down my thighs.
Fabric bunched in my fist keeps the hem tight,
Stops it gaping as I lean, cold feet pressed to his shins,
inhaling steam from thick-as-mud coffee.
Would like to rearrange myself βround the warmth of him-
tangle my fingers in his hair.
Clamber into a linseed oil and white spirit scented nest.
But nowβs not the time.
Distance is key.
I drink coffee, mind my hem βtil heβs ready to draw.
muse
#muse
#temptation
#attraction
Written by
ju
F/England
(F/England)
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