tagErotic PoetryAmante IV

Amante IV

byEleanora Day©

The waiting mouth
wants taking, deliberately biting
the plum, the fruit of night,
tasting texture, hearing tones
of breath, anticipation
of fingertips trailing skin,
glinting.

The phosphorescent pinpoints.

I bend Amante
as this first flush rises,
blushed dark with fever,
stretched taut as soft glass
oozing sweet trembles
and curved to lips
waiting to kiss
the night.

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byEleanora Day© 3 comments/ 2775 views/ 0 favorites

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