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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/2144991
Rated: 13+ · Poetry · Romance/Love · #2144991
A narrative poem about intimacy
Beneath the yawning spires of heaven
he held her 'til their pulses wed;
For hours, first they raced each other
beating lonely out of sync
but after as little time as theirs
at last their rhythms met

Then he felt his hands in hers,
hard calluses against her wrists;
He knew himself
with her hands' sense
their laden breaths rose one

She saw her own frame
through his starred eyes –
the wondrous shape
that he contrived
through a desire
half restrained

Her hands sought out his face's scape,
and her fingers fretted with its lines
She felt her hands' strokes through his whiskers
his deepest sigh was her expire

She watched his adoration swell
and he felt her refuge grow
Her tender hopes opened to him
and never his ambition waned

Beneath the drowsing spheres of heaven
their flesh met as their breath was one
For minutes did they love each other
and for a life's cry were they wed
© Copyright 2018 Chris J. (dibdoosquats at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/2144991