When he kissed me my lips were
uninspired, my mind latched on
to thoughts of how it would be
with you

How hard it would be to pull away
How hot it would be
to not be satisfied with just a few

How I’d position my hands on you
How I’d fill my senses with you
Your taste, your texture
Your tone, your moan
the look of you

and I’d still want
more of you inside me

How I’d stifle a soliloquy
about that kiss, or
maybe my songbird mind
would whittle haikus (for you)

5 thoughts on “Latch

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