"sandalwooded" poems
I drank him in, his eyes the blue of blackest opals.
I breathed him in and then I sipped my gin.
I tasted him, his honeyed spice upon my tongue before I kissed him.
Flushed with the icy warmth of juniper,
My hungry lips upon his sandalwooded skin.
© Alicia Mortlock 2017
Jan 10, 2018
Jan 10, 2018 at 2:04 PM UTC