what’s this love
you write about,
this never-ending
bump and grind,
hips sway sultry beat-
box time as I make
pancakes,
sweet syrup melting
liquid brown like
those eyes,
behind me first, I pull
push, need, don’t
stop
and I’m giving your
mouth wet moisture
drop drip passion
I never stop
moaning, writhing
a vision of
curvy flesh
and goosebumps, tender
the wind rustling just outside–

marvel makes good movies
but I write rhythm ***,
for words reveal
so much, so little
the perfect monotony
of heartbreak and passion
looming, so
I light up and imagine cosmic
galaxies above,
the vast comforts
of space and bedsheets,
for I’m but a simple
hunter of new things
and hidden smiles–

–LNM