Baby, can I go on a safari in the erotic thoughts of your mind? I want to explore all your unknown treasures and swing from the branches of your tree of sensuality, climb your rocks of ecstasy, and bask in the rays of your masculinity. I want to play with you until my fragrance lives within the mist of your rain, speaks to your soul in the movement of the wind, and calls your name every time your font touches the walls of my cerebral cortex tempting me to give into the lust that only our literary exchange can satisfy. I’m scared, nervous, aroused, excited and stimulated. Hell, I’m hooked on your phonics and wonder if it works for you. You understand without asking, know by listening, and love with an appetite that only the me in we, the I in you, the you in us can satisfy. Question, can you be the hot coffee inside my pot that causes my nostrils to awaken, my fruit to be juiced, my gravey to be sopped, my bisquits to be buttered and my syrup to be hot, sweet, sticky and gooood? My lips whisper your name craving, wanting, and anticipating the next time we make love. Yeah baby, Spirit first then mental leads to the path of feeling the beat of your african drum pounding-intense-hard-with purposed rhythm and stride as if it was the compass to a slaves freedom....until death we do part we understand and consider ourselves lifers. My head and my heart are in conflict. I ask for a sign so the unknowing can know and the thirst can be quenched yet I find myself in a state of constant desire. A desire that wants you to be the oxygen in my air, the blood in my heartbeat, the scent of my lust, the nectar in my kiss, and the fulfillment of every one of my desires. Oh to be found by you ...
Posted on: Fri, 14 Jun 2013 23:32:56 +0000