Saturday, 25 January 2014

Bed Head

A poem inspired by this post by the adorable Lady Pandorah

To the world you are immaculate:
clothes chic, unique; jewellery
just so, no more; make-up
merely defining what is
already there; and that
wonderful hair so
carefully coiffed—the
touchstone of your public self.

So I am blessed to see that hair so
beautifully dishevelled as your
flushed face emerges from the
rucked sheets, a sly smile on your
sweaty face, a faint
trickle of my pleasure
serving as lipstick.

Monday, 13 January 2014

Just Wipe the Mirror

The bathroom fills with steam
as your hands absently soap your body,
taking inventory : fat ass, flabby belly,
no tits, stubble.

But what if I were there with you,
pressing the evidence of my ardour into
your welcoming ass, caressing your
tightening belly, your incipient tits,

unaware of stubble in my urgent
lift of you out of the shower,
feet splayed on wet floor as I
bend you forward to penetrate,

urging you to see how beautiful you are by
just wiping the mirror.