White Linen Poem by Piccola Topo Gigio

A heap of sheets is all I see.
My head buried in between its sea.
Daylight filtering from beneath the blinds,
Your shadow present, in the corner of my eyes.

Warmth, that lingers, against my thigh,
A scent on the pillow, making me high.
My skin, missing the touch of your hand.
The shudders induced, I barely withstand.

My mind, the sole one to take notice.
And night, my only, single accomplice.
I prolong and prolong the tenure.
For as long as I want it to endure.

Slowly getting out of bed,
A luscious feeling, roaming in my head.
Glance at the place where you just laid,
And the hunger, growing steadfast.