Monday, July 24, 2006


Reminders of the evening.
Souvenirs of the lust.
The tingling pain in my nipples.
Swollen. Red. Robust.
Screaming at the touch of fabric.
Loud rebellion as they are contained.
Pain. Pleasure. So closely entwined.
The fascination now explained.
Hours later they still provide,
Pleasure in my head.
The tingling pain in my nipples.
Slightly swollen, still bright red.


Ryder said...

they can be many or few, reminders.
Ones that make you smile long after or the ones that bring the heat and passion back with undeniable force.

gia said...

As Adam said before, the mixture of pleasure and pain can be wonderful. I love those souvenirs...

adam said...

Such a nice, melodic, ryhming-pattern..It fit's well. I'm reminded of Edgar Guests poetry, reading this--I'm sure he's before your time..

but, his poetry wasn't as open & passionate as yours!!

Love your souvenirs, much more.