Lost Message
Clean sheets, sticky skin
grab hold and hang on limbs
tangled fingers buried in our hair.
lips long pressed and searching out areas so sensitive;
keep pushing and pushing and pushing,
surrendered whims given
lusting angel speech is whispered in my ear
sun shines, heated flesh
fever hold and self-produced
working deepest inside hides the wonder,
wonderful it hurts so much
this distant thought can't quite make it,
can't quite reach practiced longing.
This poem was written by a friend of mine, Zach. And I thought I should give it a special place on my page. Hell with writing like this he deserves it. ;)