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A series, part 4: (titleless)

by Gilly Wigley

My heart churns,
grumbles.
Hungry for something,
a feeling.
Anything.
Anything to hold on to.
Anything to suckle on.
Anything real, raw, luscious.
Something to quench my thirst.
Dripping off these lips,
only to dart my tongue out,
catching every drop.
Wasting nothing to the floor.
I want nothing more
than to lay,
side by side.
Side by side with this anything,
this form of sustenance.
Side by side, with an agenda consisting nothing more
than to waste the day away
atop something of cotton and down.

10/06/2011

Posted on 10/06/2011
Copyright © 2019 Gilly Wigley

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