You
( Tryst )
Coming and going
cunning little dimples appear
as I breathe a breeze
following your hairline.
Yawning and stretching
your slowly opening eyes
blaze in blue,
reflecting the gleam in mine.
A line down your neck;
a light rap
homing in on the hollow
at the start at your shoulders.
I count your pores,
I can´t finish
they stand like stars
in the heaven of your skin.

Text: Mehmet Türkkal

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