Lost Love. Poem by Paul Cornell
Lost Love.
The smell of her hair warms in my chest,
the softness of her lips with which she is blessed.
Her delicate skin my fingers gently brush,
the time with her I don't want to rush.
Her kiss it feels it melts my lips, my tongue,
hair black, down her breast it's hung.
And all this I still do not know,
as we haven't met, she does not know.
Monday, October 10, 2022
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5/5/2024 12:19:45 PM # 1.0.0.1119
