Desire

Rating: 4.0

Under the soft translucent linen,
the ridges around your nipples

harden at the thought of my tongue.
You — lying inverted like the letter ‘c’ —

arch yourself deliberately
wanting the warm press of my lips,

it’s wet to coat the skin
that is bristling, burning,

breaking into sweats of desire —
sweet juices of imagination.

But in fact, I haven’t even touched
you. At least, not as yet.

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COMMENTS OF THE POEM
B. Laxmi Priya 17 July 2013

Oh, spell binding sensuousness.. The last stanza was anti climatic though...

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