Sex poems for my wife. Passionate Love Poems.



Sex poems for my wife

Sex poems for my wife

We burrow in closer wrapping arms and legs over and under each other. So they dance to the tune of an imperfect harmony. You lay beside me; your hand moved over my face as though you had felt it also— you must have known, then, how I wanted you. Forgive nothing. Your traveled, generous thighs between which my whole face has come and come— the innocence and wisdom of the place my tongue has found there—the live, insatiate dance of your nipples in my mouth—your touch on me, firm, protective, searching me out, your strong tongue and slender fingers reaching where I had been waiting years for you in my rose-wet cave—whatever happens, this is. Then you kissed me—I felt hot wax on my forehead. Now that all of them belong to the past, it almost seems as if you had yielded to those desires—how they glowed, remember, in the eyes gazing at you; how they trembled in the voice, for you, remember, body. Hunger feeding my desire. My hands will wrap around the tendons of your wrists to hold you here, lowered over me like clouds before a storm, the enormous thunder and then the rain. Cummings He longs to be An orange, to feel fingernails Run a seam through him. Nay, whatso seem, Have faith, dear heart; this is the thing that is!

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Sex poems for my wife

We burrow in closer wrapping arms and legs over and under each other. So they dance to the tune of an imperfect harmony. You lay beside me; your hand moved over my face as though you had felt it also— you must have known, then, how I wanted you. Forgive nothing. Your traveled, generous thighs between which my whole face has come and come— the innocence and wisdom of the place my tongue has found there—the live, insatiate dance of your nipples in my mouth—your touch on me, firm, protective, searching me out, your strong tongue and slender fingers reaching where I had been waiting years for you in my rose-wet cave—whatever happens, this is. Then you kissed me—I felt hot wax on my forehead. Now that all of them belong to the past, it almost seems as if you had yielded to those desires—how they glowed, remember, in the eyes gazing at you; how they trembled in the voice, for you, remember, body. Hunger feeding my desire. My hands will wrap around the tendons of your wrists to hold you here, lowered over me like clouds before a storm, the enormous thunder and then the rain. Cummings He longs to be An orange, to feel fingernails Run a seam through him. Nay, whatso seem, Have faith, dear heart; this is the thing that is! Sex poems for my wife

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Sex poems for my wife

Sex poems for my wife

5 Comments

  1. But what is more painful is to love someone and never find the courage to let that person know how you feel. Impossible to resist.

  2. All act was clutch, All fact contact, the attack and the interlock Of tongues, the charms of arms.

  3. Enter: Sex poems. The air was dank with dew, between the trees, The hidden glow-worms kindled and were spent. So they dance to the tune of an imperfect harmony.

  4. But what is more painful is to love someone and never find the courage to let that person know how you feel. Sleepwalking to the rhythm of your words, Never wishing to wake.

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