Black hair
Tangled in a thousand strands.
Tangled my hair and
Tangled my tangled memories
Of our long nights of lovemaking.
***
Press my breasts,
Part the veil of mystery,
A flower blooms there,
Crimson and fragrant.
***
Not speaking of the way,
Not thinking of what comes after,
Not questioning name or fame,
Here, loving love,
You and I look at each other.
***
Left on the beach
Full of water,
A worn out boat
Reflects the white sky
Of early autumn.
2 comments:
I'm a sucker for a mucky poem...
Puss
O so am I.
That's why I loved the series you posted.
August
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