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icarusPoems
O, Precious... Grant my hands the pleasure to roam the roots of your locks upon my chest Let me breath the air that sustains your beating heart.. It is my air, it is my heart. Your warmth is my bed where our sweat beads collect in exhaustion My sweet baby... the twitching is exquisite when you caress them with intention Please bury me yet with your cradling leg, possessive and proud, as I gaze into endless space where the impossibility of meeting you is rendered mute by our fate. There is a reason for your scent dancing in the playground of my brain Or the placid sound of your slumber Or the exactitude of your arms draped upon my grateful chest They seem so right for each moment of perfection that bears your name and mine. I live for the thrilling anticipation of your closeness Your hair upon my face, your body in its sensual splendor melded into my heathen helplessness. And your face... Ah, your face, Beloved, the face of gods suspended in orgiastic playstrings, is all that matters to me. I am once again taken. I am immortalized in love.
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Mar 17, 2013
Mar 17, 2013 at 10:33 PM UTC
Immortalized
O, Precious... Grant my hands the pleasure to roam the roots of your locks upon my chest Let me breath the air that sustains your beating heart.. It is my air, it is my heart. Your warmth is my bed where our sweat beads collect in exhaustion My sweet baby... the twitching is exquisite when you caress them with intention Please bury me yet with your cradling leg, possessive and proud, as I gaze into endless space where the impossibility of meeting you is rendered mute by our fate. There is a reason for your scent dancing in the playground of my brain Or the placid sound of your slumber Or the exactitude of your arms draped upon my grateful chest They seem so right for each moment of perfection that bears your name and mine. I live for the thrilling anticipation of your closeness Your hair upon my face, your body in its sensual splendor melded into my heathen helplessness. And your face... Ah, your face, Beloved, the face of gods suspended in orgiastic playstrings, is all that matters to me. I am once again taken. I am immortalized in love.
icarus
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icarus
Mar 17, 2013
Mar 17, 2013 at 10:33 PM UTC
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