My words don't Shake like William's,
nor, do they Frost like Robert's.
×
My words barely lead the Way like Ernest's,
nor, do they have Hughes like Langston's. 
×
I don't know how much my Wordsworth like William's,
nor, do my words keep people ******* like Edward's.
×
My words are far from an Angel like Maya's,
 and they are barely Lovecraft like Howard's.
×
Indeed I profess, my words cannot do those listed things, but, my words can be a great expression of me.
×
(sumairu•¶oetry)

You taste and smell exactly what 
I thought heaven 
would taste and smell like.

You kissed me
after you 
climaxed; sampling
your sweet wild honey
and agreed.

I went for seconds and thirds 
and developed an
insatiable sweet tooth.

I love giving you oral ***.

When we made love was it not a miracle, did the sky not shower its approval with flashes of lightning and deafening booms, drowning out your moans of being satisfied.

 Did the rain not drum on the windows applauding your beautiful performance, and was it not an encore for round two and three.

 When we were finished, was the sun not fatigued of being out, and did the moon not greet our skin as we laid in each other's arms; glistening as if we were made of diamonds.

Making love to you
is a force beyond anything 
the universe has ever experienced.