We met on air, voice to voice,
A familiar timbre, like an old friend.
Now hours fly, and in this chaotic choice,
We speak, or silence reigns without end.
We kissed the receiver, a beckoning sound,
Breathing passion in the embrace of tender words.
And undressed, our true gaze found
The curves of bodies, freed from their lords.
We embraced mentally, in bed's soft hold,
Sharing dreams, sighs, and playful art.
And voices hoarsened, barely told,
The phone our guide, playing its part.
At a distance, captive to our desires' sway,
We blazed, intoxicated by our own might.
Bodies trembled from silent words they'd say,
How good it was not to meet, not in haste, not in sight!
Telephone acquaintance
© Copyright: Святослав Соловьев, 2026
Свидетельство о публикации №126060905196
Свидетельство о публикации №126060905196
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