1am in San Francisco

Laying in my bed with you at 1am.

Sheets tangled,

Listening to Nico whisper “Sunday Morning”,

This is all I ever wanted.


It is a cool San Francisco night,

Filled with fog and promise,

Your small palm is pressed flat on my belly,

Curved around me in love,

I like it so much as your hand holds me.


My leg is thrown over your thigh,

The outer edge of my leg rests against your cunt,

Your clit is hard, and damp spreads like rays of moonlight,

Your taste travels through my blood vessels from my leg to my tongue,

And my lips part in need to hold your clit in my mouth,

My mouth is a cave for your cunt to live in.


Oh, it is that quiet night moment of us,

I want to lay sweaty and filled with you forever.


About Avery Cassell

Avery Cassell is a queer butch San Francisco writer, poet, cartoonist, and artist who grew up in Iran.
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1 Response to 1am in San Francisco

  1. Paul says:

    You have some truly wonderful poetry here. The strength comes from the technical brilliance and the tenderness from the sincerity and careful control over the tone and feeling in the poems. Fantastic. Count me a fan.


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