Untitled (Feeling Love)

Waiting for the words

They never seem to come out

They never flow

Like the shower running down

Between thin warm skin

Like suds rolling over

And under thighs I lay beside

From underneath

Heated ceilings

Captured candle light

And spring breezes

Feeling that warmth

A hug around the neck

Is it real? Or fake? fake?

A pretender at cause

It’s just for a while

Just for a bit

A secret I hid

Share, kept away

I feel myself

Loosing grip

As the river swarms

Around my feet

And ankles and knees

The under current pulls me

Drowning I go

She watches on

Until I get back

On my feet

And protrude a pencil perfect portrait

A pencil perfect portrait

© 1998 David Greg Harth

98.04.02.22:04:00@NYC