In the cradle of her arms…
There is never a hastened hush.
It is a haven of opulence.
And, I am…it’s welcomed visitor.
Though my time there is often visceral.
I go there to expose my painful history.
If I could choose where to fade away…
I would be where the taste meets on her lips.
Placed ever so gingerly at the curvature of her hips.
I am resigned…during daunting times…
To seek out what my love…so freely gives.
A manger of daydreaming luxury.
In which to lay my weary head.
Nothing spoken of conditions.
Nothing needed to be said.