An Ode to the Ballsack

Your soft, saggy flesh makes my world go round

Photo by Jefferson Palomique from Pexels

The testes. Man marbles. Bags made from plucked chicken skin.

Dangling from the core of your being, tucked ever so neatly behind your sword. Like two backup singers modestly supporting their leading man.

I reach over and cradle them in the palm of my hand. So gentle. So tender.