Saturday, January 1, 2011

it's the little things

Your hand squeezing the back of my neck,
expressing your claim,
My head bowed, laying on your lap,
Your fingers twisting though my hair,
I am yours.
Pushing me against the wall,
Possessing my face in the palm of your hands,
Trapping my gaze with your eyes,
I am yours.
Touching to guide me, to quiet me,
Holding gently the curve of my waist and hip,
Pulling me back to you as you pound your heat into me,
I am yours.
Circling the sting on my reddened bottom with the soft touch of your hand,
brushing the tear from my cheek,
I am yours.
Your hand on my throat,
Your fingers in my mouth,
I am yours.
Walking through the door at the end of the day,
I am yours.


  1. L,

    This is beautiful. You captured a feeling and a moment in a way that gives it the respect, beauty and dignity it deserves. Your writing is always nice but this was art.


  2. AA,

    Thank you for stopping by and for your most wonderful comment..recent provocation from a correspondent has pushed me to think more deeply about some things..the guidence I need perhaps? It is bringing the poet out in me..haha! Have a good and safe new year AA



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