 |
| < -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------> |
| < -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------> |
| Poemission |
| Early A.M. Double-D R.N./P.R.N. |
 |
| O gentle spirit in white, springing forth from the darkness into my troubled slumbers, your soft voice soothes already as my opiated eyes struggle to focus on your cumulus form. Your touch comforts me. You are my nurse, but I am impatient, for floating just above my face, yet out of my grasp, are the lovely white cotton clouds of your billowy bosom. And I, weak though grown, am forbidden in reach as my instinct demands; damn propriety, damn this fever which adds haze to this succulent mirage. As you gauge my heart’s response your breasts heave slowly. They smell sweetly of springtime air with a hint of rain, yet I tremble beneath, for there may be thunder if I touch the sky. If I could nestle my head between those dreamy pillows, then I could truly rest. With you I could retreat from the pain into the clouds... nothing but you and your clouds freed from uniformity, and there my greatest worry would be to suck on one while longing for the other. |