The earthy smell
when the rain
hit the ground
my lips touched yours
for the first time
love and lust
dances around
our soaked clothes
I can't seem to remember
what time it is
or exactly where we are
the only knowing is, you
my fingers wrapped
in your wet hair
your beauty
and the glare in your pupils
from the lights, on
at house
number nine
YOU ARE READING
13/33/1
PoetryA growing Poetry collection for those esoterically inclined. Mystical Poetry for the Erotic/Romantic Mind. *EROS* The Black Bukowski
