Time To Go To Bed.

Sore, bitten, waiting for the blood to clot,
I am under the sheet,
sweat stained,
and my legs are cold,
will you materialise and warm me up tonight?
My lips dried out in the wind when I walked,
and my face stung and my eyes run,
cold seems to make me sensitive to sadness.
How is it that we feel so hot?
Air thick, warm, lucid…
I speak of you and power like I have it,
and you touched me.
My arms ache from holding on to the posts,
sore, stiff, skin feels wrong,
on the bones, and the flesh is a sweet soft dish…
I am in agony tonight,
twisting and turning,
undo your clothes and let them roll off,
black cotton shirt, grey jeans,
I want to hold you and feel those lines,
deep lines in your back where the skeleton claims muscle and ties you up.
I want to know and love the devil look in your eye when you lean across me,
pink gleam must be the lights,
but it could send shivers into me,
into those places still untouched,
imaginary perhaps but I will cling…
The liquid in our mouths like velvet oil,
honey, spice, love tastes right.
Sometimes I will lie in the bed in a haze,
let my limbs relax, splay out, side by side,
we could be close and my face in your hair,
sacred scent of pine and pages,
smell of skin and soap.
I get angry, full up, itching, aching, tossing, turning, biting, licking….
Crashes down like wet leaves tipping trees,
dripping moist, silent, soaking in beneath.
Tonight just hold me, I’ll be mute,
my arms won’t brace, and I’ll just sink into sleep,
inhaling your breath,
like a child at the breast,
I’ll be pure.

Time To Go To Bed.

Fuschia

Kingston Upon Thames, United Kingdom

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