Saturday, November 15, 2008


worlds grow out of nowhere
in sprouts and sprigs, in gentle nudges
nose rubs, spiral kisses that turn to sucking
until suddenly you're up against a wall
his tongue in your throat
your legs around his waist
desire pink as blush dawn
sun now coming
through thin shy curtains
and you wonder
what it was ever like
to feel dead.


Anonymous said...

Deb, hope you don't mind me commenting on this. It's fabulous, so passionate I visualise whenever I read it.


Deb said...

Thanks zecca. Don't mind at all, thanks for taking a peek.