my moon, my man

Seb.
He makes things…
fresh
new
clean.

We kiss.
deep
sweet
fast
slow.

He hums
lips brush the nape of my neck.
Butterflies race out from my insides
and to my fingertips.
I hold my breath.

I want him here.
I want him now.

“we wait.” I whisper. Surprised to hear my voice.

His fingers wander.
tease
tickle
bite
tease

“we wait.” Is his reply.

Advertisements

August 17, 2007. dating, men.

One Comment

  1. Mojito Mojo replied:

    🙂

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

Trackback URI

%d bloggers like this: