The London Hours, 2012

Standard

*
could it be you
breathing over me
heavily asleep
.
darkish hair on my belly
long
my breast moving slightly
not seeking disturbances
.
suddenly heavy your head
resting holding lips on me
uttering sweet
.
whispers
.
could the wind
have changed
could it be true
.
you larger than I
thought
your eyes aren’t small
finally I could look in
.
it’s a different you
on stage and modest
could it be age

.

.

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