Het

Contagious laughter,
Ivory legs crossed inside a dirty subway car.
A prisoner fallen,
Into an ocean of long hair.
Fresh hair flung in summer breezes under a damp neck.
A sudden embrace for an orphan,
My bruised soul begins to heal as soon as she looks,
Or speaks —to only me.
Soft touch of that being called a woman.
Heavenly hands,
Her touching makes a man whole.
The bliss of her arms,
Her sugary kisses,
The raw honey of her gaze,
The sweet aroma of her hypnotic breath,
Of her warmth,
Her womb.
Poetry is falling deep in her legs feeling my suffering disappear,
Inside of her love.