C. Bake Baker
Her soft folds, secret place; pale, little home.
Slipping inside me, my mind, I cannot forget it.
Soft skin, cannot help but touch her.
Stubble of the days before, crushed into her form.
Subtle curves levitate themselves.
Insatiable demand for love, for touch.
Connect myself through palms and fingers.
Simple pleasures, did not recognize the pain.
Dying shapes and blankets leaning.
Outdoor beauty, carpet screenings.
C. Bake Baker's Other Poems
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Poet's Notes about The Poem
Comments about this poem (Soft Folds by C. Bake Baker )
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Still I Rise
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
William Ernest Henley
- THE BLACK MAN WITH A KNIFE, johnny case
- I don't know if I know me, Logan Fulk
- Frustration, courtney metcalf
- WE ARE HERE, Christina Sunrise
- Your love, Mark Heathcote
- Love In A Bottle, Midnights Voice
- Oh Mediterranean sea, fgbkehdguwheqi rewfgwej
- Ramblings of Devils Workshop, Nalini Chaturvedi
- BEFORE YOU CAST THE STONE, kevinsky nyaga
- Remembering you Bother, NEDRA WILSON