ecstacy taking over (again)
white socks, peeking
trepid ‘tween cut
jeans and green Chucks,
the face sewn on its
pure fabric taunts my-
self as my eyes pretend
absentmindedly to dart
in its direction;
his white socks creep
up to his ankle, skin
(and a hair) showing inches
above its hemline; he bends
down, patting it smooth;
and in that rush, ecstacy
taking over again
his white socks, surely
delicate, my hands in their
dreams rubbing around it;
kneedling into its soles; and he
stares into my eyes and in that moment
of almost (but not) kissing,
I hate myself for staring
unspeakably at his white socks
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So lyrical, I love it!
Thanks for reading Sieni! 🙂
oih, I like this lots.
Many thanks! And I love your blog so much!
Thank you so much for saying so!