His hands
burn away at my momentary doubt
my skin becomes softer beneath his lips.
his lips taste like a postage stamp for an unwritten letter
with slowly drifting fingers, he writes to me:
he asks about my day with his palm on my rib cage and his sighs in my ear.
he kisses the center of my chest, and tells me a story about friends I've never met
he suckles my ****** when he talks about his alcoholic father.
and he writes goodbye with his hips between my thighs.
he provides no return address.
he simply signs his name.
Jan 26, 2014
Jan 26, 2014 at 3:44 AM UTC
His hands
burn away at my momentary doubt
my skin becomes softer beneath his lips.
his lips taste like a postage stamp for an unwritten letter
with slowly drifting fingers, he writes to me:
he asks about my day with his palm on my rib cage and his sighs in my ear.
he kisses the center of my chest, and tells me a story about friends I've never met
he suckles my ****** when he talks about his alcoholic father.
and he writes goodbye with his hips between my thighs.
he provides no return address.
he simply signs his name.
Request permission to use this poem