There are roses in your coming through the airwaves your voice tingles down my spine
and held in loving suspension we are pure frozen in time delayed gratification and I can't believe the reward
my ears get hot and tummy swims in circles god before you touch me i cannot
and i tell you this; i cannot i whisper this pleading into your eyes i cannot my god i moan this to you in surrender taken over like the war is over and now i'm melting
because you think i taste so good melted And i know there are roses in your voice because they bloom for me
from your tongue velvet and soft for me and then strong for me rugged and firm like rocks for me
your voice and your attention my reward my reward my reward
I want you to feel within your core im in awe of you
im just arrested see? watching your roses im wide eyed, tied; take such pleasure in arresting me .
a poem for when the sounds i make with my mouth aren't the words of praise that I want to come out (especially in queerplatonic relationships and quasiqueerromantic friendships)... and a poem of gratitude for people who like to remind me of the things i don't need others' permission for. im so alive about that profound encouragement.