Under the covers
I can feel you
Touching me, teasing me,
Exploring what is
Yours,
I’m cupped and stroked,
Cold, feather light
Ghostly, but familiar hands
As I wake up.
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Under the covers
I can feel you
Touching me, teasing me,
Exploring what is
Yours,
I’m cupped and stroked,
Cold, feather light
Ghostly, but familiar hands
As I wake up.
Posted on October 24, 2018 at 5:22 AM in Mike, Poetry | RSS feed | Reply | Trackback URL
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