- Non-Erotic Poetry
- The Line
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He hands me the white box, so small it fits in my palm
I hold it and wonder how I can be stuffed into something so small.
We speak of love and longing and belonging.
We speak of needing.
Love.
Passion.
He hands me His heart, so full of love I can’t hold it.
My fingers wrap around it as I cradle it in my palm so gently.
We speak of pain and sharing and caring.
We speak of life.
Real.
Forever.
He hands me His soul, so full of truth as I cup both hands
My hands hold it safely and wrap it carefully with need and desire.
We speak of commitment and living and giving.
We speak of passion.
Deep.
Erotic.
And I wonder.
Will He allow my laughter to spill from me?
Will He let my playful humor surface?
Will He understand that I know?
I know the line.
Or will He put me in the white box?
