Friday, September 20, 2013

The Morning After

Sweet angel with a devil in her tongue,
   What do I think of as I wake beside you?
—Why couldn’t we have met when I was young
   —Dear God, I hope to hell I satisfied you
—The way your belly slaloms to your hips
   —The brush of stubble on your inner thighs
—How yes and no lie teasing on your lips
   —How passion makes a lighthouse of your eyes
 —And even though I know your heart’s a shore
   With footprints everywhere, I will die trying
To be for you what no one’s been before:
   A sheltered harbor full of love undying—
      Empty of all but safety, rest and ease
      Where you can anchor any time you please.


Copyright 2013 Matthew J Wells

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