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

Elixir.
He exhales
and you are exhumed,
unforgotten,
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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