I lay here as an empty journal
Awaiting you’re inspirational touch,
Longing for the creative way
You caress my pages,
with your number one, two and three phases
Of masculine sexuality,
Your hands tracing every part of me,
As you search out the rhythmatic groove
you wish to bestow…upon my soul
I know, that tonight is going to go,
down In history as one of the best poetic justices of love making
and us taking lust to it’s highest level.

As my stomach touches the cool of the sheets
your pencil peaks
and you begin encrypting ecstasy
down the small of my back
to the bridge that connects
Sonnets to coves,
The warmth of your body covers my chill
As our passion to achieve greatness flows..
And as you apply pencil to paper
the tip gently penetrates the thread,
I gasp out of pleasure
Nipples restored like lost treasure
Fulfilled like a Poem that’s been read.

I watch from peripheral eyes
the way you kiss down my thighs
As if they are your tools of exotic designs,
And I feel the heat of my sweet goddess erupt
with every lyrical, touch, you give when gently
Lifting knees to shoulders,

I look into your eyes as you come so close to mine
And I see words flying by like, I love you, I need you,
I never want to leave you,
And uncontrollable tears fall from the corners of the windows to my soul
Because it is then I know, we are not just engaging in Phucking
But making love…slow…
and I want you to be here forever..
just like the letters,.. of poetry we continue to write
Every time we are….together!

Poetic_Muse
Poor man’s copywrite