Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Dec 2012
Your thick, long hair
Your sun-streaked lion's mane
Falling on my cheeks.

Your drowning pool eyes
And their shattering shade
Of blue
Erasing my good sense.

Your Cupid's bow lips,
Soft and pliable
(I know because I've studied them every time they've formed my name),
Tasting my mouth and my yearning skin.

Your hands.
Doing what they do.

And your body
Against mine.


If only.
Jillyan Adams
Written by
Jillyan Adams
Please log in to view and add comments on poems