It must stay that way
because your thighs touch each other
under your skirt
The cowry porcelain touch,
glossy, organic, polished over time
as the tide driven water ebbs and flows, ebony
under your skirt.
Dew saturated summons!
How could I not be magnetized
by that deep night-formed allure?
And oh what an allure it is for me.
All parts of me respond to the call.
My skin wants to bathe in its mist,
my heart wants to wrap itself in yours,
my blood seeks immediate contact
some sort of exchange.
My own mouth does not stop
watering as it savors the satisfaction.
My silk driven cedar
wants to descend
as in a well,
down a waterfall,
sink its awe filled root
tenderly, insistently
into the smallest crevasses,
where Her water lies
under your skirt
because your thighs touch each other
under your skirt
The cowry porcelain touch,
glossy, organic, polished over time
as the tide driven water ebbs and flows, ebony
under your skirt.
Dew saturated summons!
How could I not be magnetized
by that deep night-formed allure?
And oh what an allure it is for me.
All parts of me respond to the call.
My skin wants to bathe in its mist,
my heart wants to wrap itself in yours,
my blood seeks immediate contact
some sort of exchange.
My own mouth does not stop
watering as it savors the satisfaction.
My silk driven cedar
wants to descend
as in a well,
down a waterfall,
sink its awe filled root
tenderly, insistently
into the smallest crevasses,
where Her water lies
under your skirt
