Posted in Blog, Creative Writing, Personal, Writing

Last Night’s Dream

Pressed against you,

warm and wanted,

pressure on that little part of my waist you like to toy with.

I am yours to toy with,

tortured in the sweetest way,

contorted,

calling out your name.

I call you,

the next day,

kneeling by my bed,

as if I’m praying.

Approaching you, as if you are a God.

Adoring you, as if I am a lovesick fool.

I am glowing as I sleep,

levitating high above my sheets,

you leave signals on my skin,

and I can feel you,

your fingerprints still fresh,

as I awake.

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