The Train
Few structures remain standing after the sweep of my eyes around you. Most are now fragrant cinders, but your eyes have not returned the gift I long for, that acknowledgment of your fear when you notice and then understand the shameless heat in my expression of longing. Allow me the peace of you caressing my shadow with your body language so I can proceed happily to drown in the ocean of lust I am willing to merge into.
We are but a few feet away at the train station and the pressure I feel within my clothes is extraordinary in volume and fury. The things I would do to you, on you, in you; with you all night, tonight. Wrap your slender hand on the rail and board my train.
© Text: Orlando Barahona
© Image: Mini Malist/Flickr
This work by Orlando Barahona is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.
We are but a few feet away at the train station and the pressure I feel within my clothes is extraordinary in volume and fury. The things I would do to you, on you, in you; with you all night, tonight. Wrap your slender hand on the rail and board my train.
© Text: Orlando Barahona
© Image: Mini Malist/Flickr
This work by Orlando Barahona is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License. Join my page on Facebook:
