Down the Eaves

curled up on the porch
my cheek resting upon my
tear-soaked hands

the rain pounding down the roof
and yet
all I can think about is

the sound of your voice
caressing me and
how I long to feel your body
pressed against my skin and
your fingers threading in my hair
as our lips
clash and join and mold together

our tongues thrusting
slithering
our breath in
ragged gasps and sighs
flesh upon flesh
sliding together

as easily as
the rain slips noiselessly
down the eaves


©️tara caribou – 2018

13 Comments on “Down the Eaves

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