Soft Gloves

Posted: December 12, 2014 in Poetry

Oh to be the sweet pallor of delight,

while lips wisp upon arousal’s vixen,

that piece we all desire,

yet often find has passed us by.


so we take in a boarder,

or some slight of avenue,

we distract our lives from that which

allows our mind to rest in peace.


only to struggle to touch

the flavor of desire

essence, passion, that is love

we wish and relish and breathe.


Oh to know how soft the cheek

of passion’s vision allows my mind

to imagine you in your delicious state,

my hands like gloves caress your skin.


And there again, lost I become

in the beauty of woman, sweet amour.

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