tagNon-Erotic PoetryEric -or- Guitar

Eric -or- Guitar


He hums
And I fumble
And he waits,
Patient as my fingers ache and grow
Harden at his touch.
It always hurts,
At first
Before you grow accustomed to the growling hum,
Before you grow to need it,
Rocking back and forth in time
Nodding in his ease
Humming along.
I nestle him close in my stomach,
Hugging around his wooden curve
And aching as I grow.

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