Playground

We hardly had anything in common    
Me; a little Redneck Billy, white girl    
You; a Puerto Rican, Demi God    
Perfectly mismatched    
I love George Jones    
You love whatever your dancing to, on Molly    
I loathe restaurants      
You, a chef    
The fates they met    
and on our side    
when our paths/ bodies crossed    
Our Common Ground; Your Bed/ Our Playground    
Bending, gripping your head board,    
feeling how deeply you had me    
This is when we precisely fit    
The way you held my hips      
and would slowly thrust into me      
at a perfect,    
"Oh My God" angle (my Ecstasy Angel)    
I never knew what elation was,    
until you picked me up    
and placed me on the foot of your bedframe      
and was held in place by      
your penetrating, brown, hard cock    
I have replayed this over and over again,    
many times, alone,    
in my own bed,    
touching myself      
until I gush of your sweet memory...    
     
I'd keep writing      
but I can't form      
a singe sentence    
about you, on paper,      
without needing    
something inside me