Urges churned like cream,
into butter, spread over
bite-sized private places.
Hollows and planes,
unique to you, hidden
from normal view.
Exquisite, salty creases
to lick and suckle,
dark armpits to tickle
and smell. Lips to kiss,
tongues to entwine. Hands,
limbs to tangle, until
I donít know which are
yours, which mine.

Ceinwen Haydon

If you have any thoughts on this poem, Ceinwen Haydon would be pleased to hear them.