- Non-Erotic Poetry
- Tides
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His touch traces my spine
Light and quick
Though we are separated by the fabric of my top
His fingers burn a path in my flesh
Lingering and searing
I can smell the carnage
I yearn for his hands
The ones that handle me like a fragile egg in the morning
The ones that clutch me like a toy in the evenings
I miss the rolling waves of his chest against my visage
The ebb and flow of life as we share breath
The steady drum of his heart
The eye that sees too much
Instead of the eye that misses everything
His touch engulfs my neck
Suffocating and strong
- COMMENTS
greenmountaineerover 5 years agoI agree. Very colorful images, nice choice of words; however “visage” felt a bit contrived to me. Perhaps a near rhyme nearby to add some texture to its inclusion, but as a stand alone, it didn’t work for me, my only “yes but” in this enjoyable poem, and, yes, it is slyly erotic.
