THE BREATHING ~ David Oprava

is better from afar,
seeing the rise and fall
of breasts as fingertips
drip idly on cleavage
left bare to be eye-groped
and spied.

Butterflies fuck
in my stomach swearing
rough breathed, the excited
yearn of seeing without
a chance to clutch,

too much and I close
this need tight shut,
but the silent mime of breath
won’t go, it just grows,
and grows till it’s moved me,
my hands, my throat
to lower, and lower thoughts.


Visit: David Oprava


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