My lover's ass is framed by fourteen lines,
laid down with love, each one inked by pain.
They form a sonnet written without signs,
on a sheet of living parchment without stain.
Unspoken and unwritten are the rhymes
that form the couplets of a hidden life.
Unbeaten and unmeasured are the times
that mark the meter of a secret strife.
Yet still she smiles and feels the secret sting
and heat of hidden lines upon her ass.
And now she wonders what the night will bring
of coupled pains and pleasures past.
While dreaming then of if, and when, and where
my hands will find the tangled bridle of her hair.
What did you think
Comments
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welcome to allpoetry
I am not entierly sure what to make of this poem to be honest. Though you use your words very well. Welcome to the site, if you have any questions please feel free to ask me.
Laura,
site-greeter. -
I love it. pleasure and pain. Great poem
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