- Erotic Poetry
- A Thousand Homes
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As I drift, I can see him.
He bares his chest to me
and I fall to my knees.
He is vibrantly colored.
I wonder which colors are true
and which result from my own
paint set. When he sees me
does he know which colors to use?
They blend; how do we know
where the line is between
the purest white
and tinted rose?
And do we care?
He gathers me
and i close my eyes
against his chest
my lips playing softly
against his hair. I murmur
and I drift to sleep
in this man's arms
with a thousand homes between us
and yet I am not alone
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