Monday morning, when you’re gone



I feel your closeness next to me

under the warm embrace

of my heavy duvet of soft down

reaching over me covering.

I see the twisted delicate fabric of

your discarded briefs


still lying naked on my room’s floor

torn from you in heated

embrace of writhing, twisting passion

welding us in darkness.

I see your sensuous soft fingers

cradle a cup of coffee


as leaning against pillow and board

your arm touched mine

and I felt your warm sweet skin and I

breathed that scent of you.

I shave and see between my masculinity

elements of your femininity


and how I love you.




13th February, 2015


About malekmontag

I am a writer and a wage-slave, and proud father of George Giraffe. I live in the UK, but I exist everywhere. My first stories were published this year (2016) in Short Stories and Tall Tales (Atla Publishing). Follow me on Twitter @Malek_Montag15. My Work is also available on
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