I like my men like I like my tea;
Strong and hot.
But not the hot that has attraction
And *** appeal written all over,
With those "come and get me"
Eyes and glances that leave women half naked in beds.
No, the kind of hot that when I
Ingest his words and thoughts
My soul becomes warm and
Open, warming the rest of me too.
He runs through me, creating an ember-like
Current to jolt me in all the right ways.
He lights a fire in me when he laughs and contemplates;
It's the most welcoming heat I've come to know.
It's like the first warm day of spring
After an endless winter of chill and ice.
His strength, though, need not be
In his arms or calves or thighs-
His strength can come from him
Opening up his world so I can
Enter and see him behind his skin,
Behind his skull so I can see his mind
For the beautiful thing it is.
His strength can be found
When he remains around despite
My insecurities and woes.
His strength is found when he holds me up
From my own tribulations so I can
Learn what it's like to come
From the bottom up.
His strength resides in his hands when
They pull me closer in the middle of the night-
He pulls me closer, and I can hear his heartbeat.
It always makes mine beat a second faster.
His strength rests in his heart when he handed it
Over to me and said, "Here, have this."
He warms me on cold nights,
And keeps me awake during some too.
I'd have him as the sun rises,
And even as is trades off with the moon.
Though a cliché indeed,
I could simply say that he's my perfect cup of tea.