Sillage

Info Gil Renard
26 Nov. '17
Sillage

 

Up before the dawn, again.

Stirred from slumber by the immeasurable emptiness next to me.
She flees from me, each time, without a sound, without warning.

It’s who she is. A free spirit on an endless, timeless journey.
A sleepy smile upon my hungry lips, her plea strums my heart,

“Miss me; please miss me like no other.”

I stroke my cock; reverence to the sin stained sheets.
I grow harder; our mixed fragrance dizzies my mind.

Her perfume and the scent of our sex, charge this dusky room.
My hand moves faster beneath the sheets.

Her name whispered softly upon my lips.
I affix more sin to my sullied sheets.






 

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