A hand on her stomach, a caress on her thigh,
An urge that makes her body quiver…
Don’t speak, don’t fear, don’t dare to cry,
Just relax and enjoy the shiver…
A kiss on her neck, a whisper in her ear,
A moment she begs for more…
Through the walls the neighbors can hear,
What goes on behind her closed door…
It’s exciting, this moment of release,
This stranger that hasn’t a name…
In the morning she’ll find peace,
Where most women find shame…
A fantasy in so many minds,
She steals the chance to make it real…
And each time she always finds,
She loves the way it makes her feel…
The exploration of her body,
Beneath the lips of a man…
Her toes curl, her soul wiggles free,
And she doesn’t care who won’t understand…
They can call her a jezebel; they can call her a whore,
Nothing will ever bring this to an end…
She will always have an appetite for more,
To live this feeling again and again…
What seems so harmless cannot be wrong,
And somehow she must quench the fire…
She’ll continue the journey as long,
As she cannot satisfy the desire…
A pounding in her bare chest,
A throbbing between her thighs…
His head lying upon her breast,
Her lips smile, her body sighs.
YOU ARE READING
Where the Broken Go
PoesíaPoetic tales of life, longing, and nightmares I can't keep out of my head.
