I miss seeing the curl to your hair,
your low voice in my ear often,
the smell of you, the taste
of ice cream on Sunday,
a hand on my hip,
lips at my throat,
my name being whispered
just so, and then
you’re there and I’m
no longer alone.
24 Poems ~ 24 Hours
I miss seeing the curl to your hair,
your low voice in my ear often,
the smell of you, the taste
of ice cream on Sunday,
a hand on my hip,
lips at my throat,
my name being whispered
just so, and then
you’re there and I’m
no longer alone.
Just sensory and sensual enough to be inviting and exciting.