poetry || throwback sex.

My legs tremble under the palm of his hands

As if we’ve never been here before

Inches pressed to thigh

I can feel him missing me

Little to no eye contact

Both afraid to contact

Our truth

We might be in love

Fearful of falling

We become impostors

But against our will

Hard kisses terminate our distance

Our pelvics thrust forward

Inserting memories

Sweaty palms glued to back

We reminisce

First loves

We forgot what home felt like

Until now.

via Daily Prompt: Passionate