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Monday, 14 November 2016

[Poem] Hints and Miss

You pressed your lips 
Against my lipstick mark on the glass; 
Like the kiss, 
We had been dropping hints. 

I gingerly fingered my collarbone, 
Ready to be your own; 
Touching where I'd most moan, 
Imagining your fingers trace. 

Boldly, I walked into the room, 
Wanting to take you by storm; 
Only to see your unclothed form, 
Moving between her bosom.

Copyright © thearcticstar 2016

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