A reason to love, a reason to touch,
to add a little spice.
Freedom isn't a crime, but just a dream
inside of my eye. As the temperature rise,
heating our passions that come with no surprise.
The taste of your lips, the glare of your dirt
eyes. The warmth of your breath, in the cusp
of the bodies; two curves meeting inside.
Pillow soaked emotions, crisp sheets of a former
time. Kissing and cuddling, to reimagine anew
reason why I call you mine.
The tickles down spine, river flow in streams
in it's continuous body. A candle at night,
by the side to light this activity of a nightlife.
Brushing affection under covers beneath the feet,
and such a treat. Blood rushing to the face, of
red cheeks. As like two of the sweetest overripe apples.
Toes so shaky as business hands at the longest meet
and greet, Overjoyed as if it were a last dance,
Would you at least dance one last dance with me?
A tango in the sheets—rhythms and postures, and
abrupt pauses.
Oh your sweet perfume, blows loveliness in the wind,
in a kiss of a breeze—as our tongues caught in a knot.
Twisting in the unturned direction of an advance,
a paid forward gesture of asking you out on a dinner date.
Hoping in simple conversation, we could relate. And by fate
I hoped from that day, you'd be my forever mate.
A tiny spark can start a fire, so I hoped to kindle
a little joy to burn eternally throughout the years.
For the echo flame to continue on after the children's birth.
Mother earth, of your womb and breast as a giver and
sustainer of life. Tis a pen *******; of words cutting deep
of my favourable piece. I'm seamlessly inspired as I write.
You're a sight for words, breathless at the first take, and I
could bet my words to describe, such a passion of love has even
more words to express.
But for this time, three hundred and fifty two words
is all I could get. I hope that's okay?
