The persistence of touch.

Before I started this blog, I hadn’t really written anything but e-mails for nearly twenty years, so I need all the practice I can get. I swore never to write any poetry for this blog. Here it is:


The memory of touch.


It’s been hours since we were together

And still

The warmth of your skin warms mine.


The soft, slow waves of your breath

Are gone from me now

And still

They stir the fine hairs on my neck and shoulder,

A touch without touching.


The weight of you


The smell of you



Jesus lady!

It was a bank queue,

Not a conga line!


You need to learn about personal space

Before you fall pregnant

On the five o’clock bus.



14 thoughts on “The persistence of touch.

  1. mightwar says:

    LOL!! Love it! I was right there with you throughout the intimacy, so the closing paragraphs caught me totally unawares. 😀
    Thank you for visiting.

  2. poppytump says:

    Wow you iz so wacky ! 🙂 I consider myself well and truly *tickled*
    Thanks for dropping by..

  3. Aaaaaah! So she found you too!

    ….sent her to you, actually… <– did I just say that out loud?!!

    Don't you just lurve it when you can smell someone an hour before they arrive?!!

    Brilliant post! Thanks for the chuckle.

  4. *Snork* Made my morning, thanks!

  5. heehee! such little buddies!!

  6. Like a freshly plucked nose hair, this brought tears to me eyes… and that lingering feeling that I needed to sneeze.

    • 23thorns says:

      Sadly, I have reached the age where I know that feeling all too well. Long nose hairs serve absolutely no evolutionary purpose and are the best evidence we have for the existence of a vengeful god.

  7. Dear Charming Husband

    You are such a chop! If you start writing me poetry, though, I might let you back into the house.

    Love from

    The Long-suffering Wife

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