The beastly heat radiates off the new day.
Temperatures could give Hell a run for the money.
My hair curls in damp tendrils around my bare neck.
My thighs, slick with sweat, bare no evidence of you.
But a figment of imagination is enough certainly
to carry the winds of change.
As one hand writes feverishly,
the other creeps
down the landscape of my body,
Reaching,
Stretching
to touch the sun.
Like Icarus on his final flight,
only to crash back to Earth in crushing defeat
and with a scalded heart.
Author notes
Hopefully you read the poem before the AN: this started out being about loving oneself...ahem, physically? But somehow midway through, morphed into thoughts of another set of hands to assist (hee hee!) and when all is done, the eyes are opened to find no one there.
A contest entry
- your erotic fantisies by give me your all.
600 points, ended May 27, 5 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Comments
-
thanks for entering my contest it was very good! i enjoyed it*wink wink* lol keep up the good work1!!!!!!
-
What a solo flight, my dear!
It's pure art to play with oneself
and you are quite skilful in playing with your pretty limbs....
'As one hand writes feverishly,
the other creeps
down the landscape of my body
Reaching
Stretching
to touch the sun
like Icarus on his final flight'...
I can visualize each object that makes the landscape of your handsome body
and my hands feel like they must creep on your landscape reaching and stretching the radiant sun....
A unique effeort on your part...
unique theme...
unique exploration...
Kisses ... all over...honey!
Galaxy2
Adding your comment:
