Monday, March 28, 2011

Comfort

The comfort of his hand in mine

our backs upon the gates of hell

shared faults and fears betwixt us twine

laced fingers that we know so well

The purity of his capturing arms

about my waist; embraced in sleep

within them, I could not know harm

anchored safe unto his harbor deep

His whispered words, a gift-illusion

his confession’s weight, a blessed heft

his fervent caress, a craved intrusion

my heart in his sway, a coveted theft

No comments:

Post a Comment