CP (4-8-72 / marlboro ma)


A canvas as smooth as silk
beneath my fingertips:
You sit and so unknowingly
to the fire of wanting in my brain.
You let me paint you.
And as I touch brush
to skin
I feel alive with desire.
How could you know
that touching you
-nay, simply being near you-
sparks the kindling of my heart?
That drum held captive
in my ribcage
Pounds out a steady rhythm
like Africa
where all things are wild
and free.
My hands shake as I hold your hand;
Cup your chin
to hold your face still,
Even though it is I who quivers
as the longing races through me.
I never want the moment to end.
I would paint you
so long as I could touch you.
Be beside you.
And make a ritual
of loving you.

User Rating: 5 / 5 ( 0 votes ) 2

Comments (2)

Artistic write. Thanks
Clay, you're in a constant erectile state, aren't you?