Discontented Innocence
by Summer
If you were here beloved, no longer would my hands be idle
I would press away your pain
I would weave for you a web of comfort, made with my very bones and flesh
If you were here beloved no inch of you would go un-noticed, no momment go un-loved.
If you were here beloved we could lay claim to the elation of our youth, and squeeze like wine from grapes every precious momment of our fleeting innocence.
Until you come beloved I shall remain
untouched, ever wanting, ever waiting.
Poetry
Gay Love ADVICE
