We walked up the stairs that misty night,
Struggling, what next? I may, I might.
His hand held mine as we ascended,
Was that a move, was that intended?
“You must be quiet, all will hear,”
I said, on the edge of the bed, in fear.
His hard features melt into a soft grin,
As he pulled his pants down to his shin.
“No, wait, not here, not now,
This is wrong, I won’t allow.”
He glided by and kissed my lips,
And put his hands around my hips.
“If not now, then when, my dear?
We’ve been together, by now, a year.”
He played with my hair and stroked my cheek,
I silently hesitate to move or speak.
He was sixteen, and so was I,
We were too in love to ever deny-
“Do I have your permission, is it alright?”
He was always the gentleman, always polite.
Piece by piece we shredded our clothes,
Peeled off layers to show and expose.
Our hearts thumped louder as we fumbled through,
We bit off more than we could chew.
2007-08-24
03:03:50
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11 answers
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asked by
Vawewia
2
in
Poetry