Nonsense #40

She dreams in colour,
In scents, sight and touch.
A calloused hand running
Along the back of a smooth thigh,
A sharp pinch on the curve
Of her behind. As she wiggles
Her hips they brush dangerously
Close to his, his panting breath
Is hot and heavy by her ear.
His pounding heart pressed
Flush against her back.
And then she wakes,
The world is black and grey
Once more.

Advertisements

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