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Poetry is just the evidence of life. If your life is burning well, poetry is just the ash. Leonard Cohen

Monday, February 9, 2015

Play

I watch your hands
as you strum the guitar
Imagine how your fingers
would feel against my skin
I want you
to run arpeggios up and down my spine
Stroke me
Press your fingertips here
and there
Coaxing
chords of pleasure
Make me moan with
your music.

submitted for Imaginary Garden With Real Toads, Sunday Mini Challenge, Carilda Olivar Labra