Your touch
like electricity that
licks at my surprised skin
and our hearts
beating to the rythm
of our lips.
Ruffled clothes
and tangled hair
in a pile that takes over
the whole couch,
we barely hear the dialogue
that surrounds us,
emanating from the many speakers
that decorate the walls and floor.
The warm arms that surround me
leave too soon,
and I am left
dissatisfied,
with a bed that isn't comfortable enough
and a house that isn't warm enough
to make up for another night
without you.
| 
Email this Poetry
| 
Add to reading list
