dash
Seasoned Lovers

Salted garlic seasons your kiss.
I salivate

long for you to pepper
gentle nips along my outstretched neck.

Your nails etch fine lines, decorate
my inner thighs with intricate designs.

Your rough-haired arms shave against my back,
I watch your shaft snuggled in its russet nest.

I lick a dawn dewdrop from its swollen tip
and stroke you, light yet firm,

your hot hand cradled around mine.

You shudder and cry, joined to me in isolation.

I deep-ache, await my own release.

Ceinwen Haydon


If you have any thoughts on this poem,  Ceinwen Haydon   would be pleased to hear them.

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