I watched his fingers

intertwined with mine,

and my thoughts wander

to a place stuck in time.


Wishing this feeling

was more than lust

yet nothing is more appealing

than his gentle thrust.


That heats this body

and warms this heart.

I don’t feel sorry

when morning starts


Like a routine, I must depart.


I am a virgin. It may not seem that way due to the explicit imagery by my poems. But I truly am. The poetic mind has the ability to explore more than what has been experienced in their life.


*Photo from Pinterest*