The froth on your perkiness
took me to the brink.
And ya know,
I think I like this,
kissing you in this hot bath,
a tub full of bubbles.

If tomorrow didnt begin with that perky sun again,

If tomorrow like me,

Stayed in bed and didnt open its eyes.

Would I not be tomorrow then?

I could be tomorrow,

as tomorrow could be me.

Perkiness would go out the window

Frivolity would go down the drain

All that would remain

Is the sulky little child sitting on the window sill.

Staring at the darkness outside,

smirking,

For he has the sun in his Fist.

i don't want to look like
aunt rosa's grandmother
who no longer wears
a bra
but a ***** sling
a holster
built strong enough
to keep boulders
from dropping out
the sky

every morning
she would
bend over and
pour herself a D cup
then
lock them tightly
on the third rail
and pray that the
2 convicts
didn't take flight
in the middle of
the day

i try to prevent
gravity from
stealing
the perkiness
my lover loves
every time i take a deep breath
and they point guiltily at him
but
no matter how much
support i've crossed
my heart with
gravity
pulls and stretches
my new bra
till the straps
tether  and my cups
runneth over
spilling onto
on to the reality
of the hard
cold floor

Your gentle touch,
when you kiss me after an Icy drink,
and tongue round my ears,
when you hug me without holding back,
and snuggle up with me in front of the TV,
when you run your hands through my hair,
and you caress my skin,
leaving me intoxicated as you constrict my body.

The delightful sound,
of your lips parting,
and your soothing whisper in my ear,
the swell of your groans,
and your exited pant,
or your cute squeak,
when you stroke my flesh,
and our soaked chests stick together.

My dazzled sight,
when you gaze into me,
or give me that irrisistable hot look,
your flowing bronze chocolate hair,
the perkiness of your smooth curves,
the face structure of a goddess,
and the most welcoming pure skin,
I won't forget those colourful eyes.

That tempting smell,
of your natural scent,
when you wake up in the morning,
and your perfumes and products,
or your warm home,
and fresh washing powder,
when I bury my nose deep into you,
and soak up the essence of you.

And the rich taste,
of your delicate lips,
and your soft cheeks,
your agile tongue,
or your running sweat,
when I lap up your *******,
or you loosen round my face,
and I suckle as you gush.

We were young and foolish, she the younger –
I the more foolish
hair falling softly from the table she would lie on
using keys to the dark-room during lunch hour
so we could “finish the yearbook”
excited by thoughts of getting caught during those encounters

The red light accentuated the perkiness of her *******, taught
filled with passion and energy.
I would lick my way past her belly button and could taste the chlorine from her recent swim practice.
her pool-noodle legs arched up, inviting me to stare at her
newly formed mound, still growing into her thighs
it was delightful.

She was beautiful.

Years on I’d come to spend more time with the woman from
cash register four – Thursdays noon till 8.
we were uncommitted to commitment thus,  
neither of us took too much, too seriously

She wore her hair shorter on a-countta’ it got so ****** hot
in that store,
        she would sometimes dehydrate – her neck glistening.
from the store and the hot flashes.

Her ******* would sway from side to side as she lay there waiting for me to undress
the evenings were rather unceremonious –
though quite memorable.  We never lacked energy.
Quite memorable.

Once golf-ball sized ******* had begun to sink into her abundant pillowy chest.
I would take forever it seemed ******* like a child
        until they obeyed the demand for attention.

Rounding her hips, I could taste the day-long sweat
smothered under that poly-nylon store smock
Later, she would toss her leg over mine, allowing me more than a glimpse
of her “womanhood” she called it.
all matted and twisted from the long afternoon
her greying ***** beginning to show her age
along the rest of her body.

She was beautiful.

The -older woman- referred to me as “well rounded” – the lady four years my senior
summer afternoons we’d spend quietly just sitting on the bed
Sometimes, with nothing to say
Most of her hair had left her head by now from the months of chemo

Gentle massage to her shoulders and upper arms somehow quelled her headaches
from time to time she would welcome me
“be gentle” she would whisper
I would

Kissing the nape of her neck to make way for her remaining breast
She’d had the other removed months ago.

I could taste the dusty sun-screen from her gardening
just above the tops of her hips
kissing my way down the pudge folds of her belly to her thigh
then what remained of her once neatly trimmed mound
now silver/grey/white
muddled and untidy if at all.

She was so beautiful.