We will have
No more excuses
To hold back,
To refrain from love…

And touch.

We will have nothing,
But inches between us,
Barely separating a longed for

We will pant,
With a moist heat,
To fuel our,

This moment,
When it comes,
Will define
All the hopes
And fantasies,
And dreams,

Of our

Hold on to this promise,

Hold on to us.

Our moment,
Is coming…




© 2018 W. C. Stacia, Jr.

Categories PoetryTags , , ,

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