Synthetic strands of woven gray
sheath cotton fluff that lays along
the bib of my sleeveless shirt clad chest.

Cradled in the crooks of both elbows,
forearms chamfering the flanks,
fingers clasp the haunches
drawing this soft body against my waist.

Not roused by me squirming or
by my pulsing blood churning
this lifeless lump insulates
my organs.

Fullness in my gut
and my effervescing pores whisper
in tingly sighs like it were a woman
as enamored of me as I am of
this pillow I'm holding.

Great poem. Sounds like you're almost ready to start a relationship.

Thanks Mike. My pillow is my main squeeze.

NICE

Nice poem .

I appreciate it, Robin.

Thank you, Julie.

Beautifully expressed.

I really appreciate your kind support of my writing, Storm.