- Erotic Poetry
- A Moment
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For a moment I was the blessed one.
I was the aim of his yearnings,
And I revelled as the focus of his attention.
I was the object of his desire.
For a moment I was the hunted.
The blood of his prey was on his lips,
And I lay wounded before him.
Vulnerable to the killing strike
For a moment I was his.
Wounded and waiting for my little death.
La Petite Mort.
He left. And I died.
- COMMENTS
annaswirlsover 19 years agoThis poem is so strong! I was drawn in any you had my full attention--I was right there with you until the last two lines-- they seem to re-state what has already been said or implied. I always have trouble ending poems, so I can understand, but if you have plans of making any changes in this poem please re-consider the ending. I really enjoyed the rest. (of course this is just my opinion, it is your poem :) )
I do not use the thermometer
