Glen (Livet)

The virgin boy beckons,
his topaz eyes yearn
with impish innocence,
budding masculinity-
amplified feminine grace.

Insouciant siren’s
songs flow
from his smile, his lips
breathe for you,
smoky, thorough.

With a pop
he comes undone
and pours
himself into you
and becomes

He exhales
and you are exhumed,
bidden once more
to smile at doom.

Just in case you’re wondering- Glen is 18 years old, and at least 40 proof!

4 thoughts on “Glen (Livet)

  1. And he’s a sometime companion of mine on cold winter nights when his warmth and strength fill my body and I drift off to sleep afterwards with a taste of him lingering on my lips and in my mouth.

  2. If English had been my first language, I would have liked to build poems as grand as that one above is. Besides that, I would have liked to know Glen as well.

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