Downy hairs
glisten with beads
of sweat.
Steam rises from milky flesh.
She lies before me.
Aching for me to touch her.
That place
that hides
comes out at night
shows me her heart
her eyes when the tide rolls out.
Just at my touch.
Wetness
her sweet scent
air that comes in words
and fills ears, and hearts
that comes in waves
each time we touch.
And when touching is done
when all the aching
the yearning
the needing and the wanting
are all sated
all that remains is electricity
arcing
racing
speeding through every nerve
at just one touch.
Oh how the whole world changed
when
we
touched.
© M.H.
9:20 pm 29/07/25
Marc's poetry and musings 