Sex is a high in the moment 
as present as zen could inspire:

a merging of bodies and delicate souls
hope for transcendence from invisible walls

a mending of wounds from long ago
subtle sounds and noises listened to

full trust in the one who has your care
to be who you hope they really are

body easily gained
called for again

the soul forgotten after
moments of true passion

touch is seen and felt
heard and known

but the soul feels lost
all alone

touch quiets the voices
new hope is gained

belief that touch over time
will mend the strain

the soul will be heard
but it never is

move onto the next,
expectations again

that somehow
true love will fall
into abysses
not abandoned.

Emily C. Poésie © 2018

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s