Poetry for thought

Title: Of Lovers.

I miss that weight of another person on me.

When they’re kissing me, with hands searching.

With hands desperate, but mouths gentle.

Do you remember that?

That feeling of carrying another person’s weight?

Those soft creaks and moans from your body?

I can’t breathe suddenly, but you cant stop kissing either.

I miss it; the warmth, the sweat, the search.

Slowly the weight becomes nothing.

All we have left is instinct.

And with it, we go places and take holidays in our minds.

In our bodies. In our dreams after.

I really miss that instinct to spread my legs at their will.

Their slow soft kisses, leading me, teasing me.

Their rushed breaths, almost tearing my skin.

I miss that weight of another person on me.

Around me, spinning legs like they are vines.

Humming lullabies and I love yous.

I miss them all.

Desitined to dream of them all.

And of all those to come.