Listen,
I wanna embrace a blanket of your sensuality.
I wanna abandon all rationality and create our own boundaries.
I wanna become in tuned with the vibrations of each other's souls.
Want you to climb so steeply within me that you can't find the way out of me.
See I don't wanna make love, I wanna create precious poetry.
While breathing the same rhythm.
You suck every stanza out of me.
Two pair of eyes undivided, two bodies lusty, vigorous, exuding of familiarity.
Make a story out of me.
Feed it descriptions of true beauty.
Not shrewdly, but do it smoothly.
Let's co write a poem based on our union.
We can be a masterpiece.
Ink stains left in my bed sheets.
I'll lend you my body to use as a diary.
Release all frustrations as you lay your fervor out on me.
Send a chill of suspense intensely towards the inside of my thighs,
just where the margins would be.
Our minds are deadly.
Their correlation, deadlier.
We're writing words so compelling, while releasing showers from hearts too heavy.
Our poetry is nothing to compare to the regular.
Every inch of my body manifesting your touch readily.
I recede as you synchronize my private visions of a flawless fantasy.
Basking in this radiance as you guide your pen to an astonishing climax.
Inducing my body to impasse in ecstasy.
Leaving me dripping with your artfulness.
As if announcing all expectations surpassed.
Drowning me in words that mirror ardor.
Each line so passionate,
I have no such memory of felicity that neither compares nor contrasts.
Every part of my skin left sensitive, tender, and fragile.
My body fluently floating, light as a feather.
Skin now designed and decorated with such puissant letters.
And God forbid we begin to forget the significance of our coalescence.
You can lay me down,
As you read it back to me.
This way, we can reminisce on the angelic medley.
Listen,
I don't just wanna make love,
I want our bodies to intertwine and invoke aesthetic poetry.