1.2.17 Better Than Those Fucking Sheep
~ a poem ~
Lately,
he’s been my
waking dream
just before I
sleep.
His hands
squeeze
my hips.
His lips,
light kisses
at the base
of my neck.
His nose
tickles me
a little.
I giggle,
then nestle
into him.
One arm
under
my pillow,
the other
draped
with mine.
Our fingers
interlock
and rest over
my heart.
Eyes closed,
I drift off
to sleep.
Categorised as: Poem | Writing
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