You smell like rain...
No, you are the rain –
the one that comes uninvited
in the heaviest hour of July,
when the air is so overheated.
You fall,
and I –
I, like a thirsting leaf,
turn upward,
gathering you in greedy hush,
in my holy thirst.
I turn my mouth to you,
open and aching,
to drink every drop,
as if no one ever dared,
to swallow you whole –
like I’d waited lifetimes
for a taste only you could give.
I want to be first –
first to catch all your mist,
first to trace with my fingers
the inside of your thighs,
to be the first to teach your pulse
a new language.
I am always left wanting more –
but you,
you fill me.
you smell like rain
© Copyright: Эл Стайнберг, 2025
Свидетельство о публикации №125041806078
Свидетельство о публикации №125041806078
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