These rolls hold divinity,
Sculpted as the ancient prophets were,
And while I am no Aphrodite,
I am Godly in my own right.
Hold onto me as if I am sacred,
As if the softness of my belly could heal wounds,
Cry into the broadness of my shoulders,
The supple curve of my breast,
And to you I'll grant warmth and comfort.
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Does the Rain Ever Stop?: Poems and Musings
PoetryHello Reader, This is my collection of poems and thoughts that I have compiled over the last few years. I have been writing for many years and my number one hope is that someone reads my poems and feels seen. Says "oh that's me". We all live in this...
