***
I brushed off the sand
from your shoulder, slowly.
The warmth stayed on my hand
longer than it should have dared.
***
you pressed against me –
not meaning to wake desire
but it rose, wordless
***
you undress slowly
without shame – only the light
seems shy on your skin
***
morning between us –
you shift, still half-asleep,
and I harden
fragments 2
© Copyright: Эл Стайнберг, 2025
Свидетельство о публикации №125062707341
Свидетельство о публикации №125062707341
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