I'm trying
to read poetry...
a new love for me.
My critic's heart
is not so harsh
since you came to me.
You've freed me.
But..................
I'm distracted.
I'm stuck...
thinking...
your hand in my mouth...
the other on my wrist...
the blankets falling down...
There's teeth inside that kiss.
Even now
my breath is ragged...
my heart is quick
to send oxygen to my
(you know what)
and I....
know I love you for
far more than this...
but..............
OH
my
GAWD...
Did he just?
Yes he did.
And a smile wouldn't cover
how I felt with you last night.
Sounds like some smut, right?
Like I'm lost inside
some teenaged loins
and thinking only of my groin
but you know me more
than I know me.
I spent six years waiting for this...
like it could be cultivated..
making love
instead of
making love.
Like the goal
was feeling satisfied
instead of
feeling loved.