Shaped so perfectly
So one could wish to get lost
In your soft lush folds

The saddest poems prefer their ink to run

Slide past the fabric
Towards warmth and abundance
Yet will trip once there

On many hot days
Our thirsts are quenched by pink tongues
Upon ample flesh

Greedily to be
As if they were served to me
To dine selfishly

On our knees
For all to see
For shall not covet
One another

As we are free
Like all the seas
We do love
All of our brothers

But not to look
Inside a book
For your rules
We glide upon

Instead to read
What our hearts need
Only the tools
We have drawn