Читать книгу She Must Be Mad: the bestselling poetry debut of 2018 - Charly Cox - Страница 19

She moans

As he throws

Her body

From arched feline back

To face in the pillow on her tummy

He pulls her by the ponytail

Her eyes widen with excitement

Loneliness

As well

Banshee screams and hollow slaps

Perfect nudity and waxed arse cracks

Half taken by the throng of flung-off thongs

I’m bemused and sad and thinking

Why do they never show the naps?

The intimate legs twined like spaghetti

Cooked and thrown back in the pack

Stuck with starchy love

That’s the real magic, that

That’s what turns me on

When after all the sheets have seen

Where you lay and nose touches nose

And you still know where to kiss

With the lights still off

Because you’re lit up in a childlike beam

And through panting pause your mind wanders lost

Feeling your skin cling innate to one another

Like a baby to a breast

That first breath

When you exhale and simmer,

Two maudlin corpses

Too hot and they still shiver

Craving more whilst digesting a slither

Of moments ago

She moans

As he throws

Her body

Wanting it with a posture comfy

He runs his fingers through her hair

And tells her that she’s lovely

Beautiful in fact

He grabs her by the waist

As she holds his face

And steadies gaze

Whispers lightly in his ear

I’d rather make love to you

Than just simply let you fuck me