Olympian

Let me inhale you
Overarching, I lose my head
I want to smell touch taste each hair
And breathe the golden beauty
Of the briefest of encounters
Man made god by poet’s verse

I lie beside you
The Olympian who fell to bed
So human and so fragile where
Desire will consume me
In the briefest of encounters
God made man, a poet’s curse

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Author: thepoetautist

A Gay poet of fifty odd years who is currently living in Cambodia.

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