The Hunger Poem by Rickardo BecklesBurrowes
The Hunger
Sweaty hands cling to the headboard
As bone rides bone
You're shaking
Calling out a name
Coming close to touch
These hands hold smooth wood
As bodies pollinate.
Feeling raw, feeling rapture
Calling out a name
Coming close to touch
Offering all of you.
Taken from Smoking Butterflies © 2008
Wednesday, March 13, 2013
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4/26/2024 6:44:17 PM # 1.0.0.1119
