May 2021
I have to shut my eyes
When I make love to you
Sometimes,
You are so infantile
That I recoil from your touch
You are soft and hairless
Fair and smooth
When you whimper in my arms
I cringe
When I make love to you
Sometimes,
You are so infantile
That I recoil from your touch
You are soft and hairless
Fair and smooth
When you whimper in my arms
I cringe
poems from my twenties
