A Promise | Poems that Suck

You were asleep, 
  laying face down
   on top of the tangled
     bed clothes.
      A Harvest moon hung
     low in the sky, peeking
    through the window shades
   and stretching its golden fingers
  of light up the length of your glorious,
 nude body. The moment hung in the salty, humid
air, like a promise of what was yet to come. 

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