A little bohemia in Warwick

 

 

“Remember these times.” Urging me earnestly

whilst you nuzzle my hair down there.  I dizzy and delight

at your glasses still on. A wicked glint behind

magnified - tantalizes. I draw breathe, thighs tense.

I protest “No, no, you can’t do that it’s the wrong time of….”

 

You can. You will. You do. Body squirming, eyes wide,

I clutch the duvet, horrified. You quieten my cries of desire

with an abandon of climatic peace. Then up you rise.

A tell tale of nature’s lipstick smears your beard.

 

“Just tastes different, is all.” Pushing glasses back up nose,

subversive smile grows and wanders to the bathroom.

Empty wine bottles proud where my embarrassment blushes

bewilderment, amongst tease of your smoke and mirrors.

Unable to write. I live. “Remember” he said.

 

© Katypoetess 2013

 

erotic poemerotic poetrylovelove poemlove poetry

◄ The Oak Tree at Hatton Locks

The Cottage II ►

Comments

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Yvonne Brunton

Wed 27th Feb 2013 23:22

Seething with sensuality. _ A rainbow sandwich?

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Nigel Astell

Tue 26th Feb 2013 16:36

Another bottle of red methinks to keep the party going!

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Graham Sherwood

Sun 24th Feb 2013 17:27

The cunning lingers on! A very erotic piece done nicely.

Rose Casserley

Sun 24th Feb 2013 16:52

very good piece indeed Katy.x

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