Coming home

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I crawl into bed trembling.
Emotions cling to me
from the words I have written,
shared passion with strangers.
I echo with lust.

In his sleep
he feels me,
senses the places I am in.
He reaches for me in the warmth of our bed
and pulls me under him.
His body fills mine before his eyes are even open.
He reclaims his spaces,
my body his bed.

He fits me to perfection,
taking away everything that is hollow.
Tender, my knees against his ribs,
Fragile my feet clasped in his hands.
I love him.
His body is my home.

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3 Comments
jthserrajthserraabout 13 years ago
nicely done

this is erotica, wonderfully subtle

jth : )

AnonymousAnonymousabout 15 years ago
Love the last line

"His body is my home." I love your simplicity to flesh out true emotion.

TathagataTathagataover 19 years ago
your poem

has been mentioned in todays reviews

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