Poetry no image

Published on June 13th, 2011 | by George Wyngaardt



A gentle stroke against my naked skin
Caressed slowly with the precision of a painters brush
Subtly enjoying the splendor of his taste
Tiny explosions burning up the surface of my flesh

I, his canvas of sensual exploration
My senses are tingling with anticipation
With baited breath I await my next eruption

My knight in shining armor, unsheathed before me
Carefully with my lips slightly parted, I embrace him
The contours of my sheath less frame pressed beside his

Thrust into a world beyond the folds of reality
Plunging willingly to the depths of my being
Drowning in a sacred pool of eves tears
Every breath taken in intensifies the allure
Addicted… I am
To this enchanting man…

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George Wyngaardt


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