Your first touch

Left me limp

Like dimpled clay

In the hands of a master

Commissioned by God,

Ready to play,

Fingers caressing,

Realigning the bones,

Slipping beneath straps,

Gliding down zippers,

A pro at undressing

My fear cloaked in drapes

And provoking tears to rain

Launched from a dark place,

Amid sighs and whimpers

Building to strident confessions

While my contorted face

Morphs between bliss and pain  –

These are my impressions of you.


© 2011 Chantale Rêve

All Rights Reserved

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