The Fountain

I want to drink more and more

heavily from your fountain,

To understand the waters of your truth.

Dripping, spilling

from my lips

Falling, trailing

down my breasts.

To have spent half a lifetime

Thirsty, for your living waters.

Only receiving from others

your essence

Sometimes just drops at a time (if at all).

For oh so long feeling so misunderstood

Shamed and isolated.

The moment of recognition in being

felt and appreciated,

even celebrated

Led me to rush and push

To gulp you instead of savoring and sipping.

To desire more of your languid liquidity

To fill my once empty mouth,

And each empty space.

Then to thrust mine upon you

For you to drink…

All has left my head left spinning,


Disoriented, all of my being

turned upside down,

flipped over

Like a good fuck.

Dripping wet are my lips

with my desire for more, and more

from your fountain…


Photo by dan

16 thoughts on “The Fountain

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