Friday, June 28, 2024

Boiled on the inside July 2012

 


I touch your lips with mine,

you breathing life back into me

after I have come too close

 to drowning,

the sway of the sea

 the rise and fall of tides,

I cling to you as if a life line,

 while around me,

 floating in the waves,

the wreckage of my life

 (or love or whatever

this was or is or never could be).

If I rub you with the palms of my hands

 calloused fingers against all too smooth flesh,

 will you pop out like a genie and grant me what I desire most?

If I kiss you, your lips, your hips, your eyes, your thighs,

will you feel it as deeply as I do,

boiling up on the inside,

a lobster who does not know

when the heat is too much,

aching to turn it high,

 regardless of the consequences.

 

 


email to Al Sullivan

No comments:

Post a Comment