I want the validation
of a smile...
   The delineation  
of a ******..
Absent in the raunchy rancor
of forbidden reciprocated touch...

On a cold cotton sheet canvas
I want
green eyes genuflecting.
Bound to blonde...

the pitter patter of your ******* as they slide stochastically
moan... “pull hard”
provides a perfected poetry on dour days

In a vacuum is where I want to meet you
a placated peace.
the beautiful insulation..
of beatified incantations...
a world absent of our impediments
the dour demographics:::

the siren’s song beckons
       it’s more than just a taunting tune,
it’s a pursed lip
pleading
to peruse your flesh.