Obsessed With The Way She Taste
poetry flattered the gate I decided to walk through and I never looked back,
until she straddled my face and spewed her ambrosial...
rich language down my throat.
she’s been there when loyalty couldn’t be,
still wiping away the blood of my own selfish bigotry.
gave me calligraphy wings when others tried to cage my thoughts
for me to erect straight, expand my gait and offer her a full length of my syntax courage through poetic footsteps.
i've never been hesitant in allowing her to run her cryptic tongue all over my body, in hopes my abstained intellect and unfed mind,
would master her lyrical strokes-
or inherit her hypnotic vibe in wet verbiage, etched on my skin.
I'm obsessed with the way she bends me over, positioned to penetrate my lavender parchment when she….
spit on metaphoric hands and glossed her parabolic shaft before directing her need for me to moan
a ruth-ful verse in her midst,
i’m mesmerized at how she twist my cerebral joints into a symphony of wordplay, exploding on paper into lines called fragmented experiences
seducing my untamed imagination, flirting with my untapped creativity;
sweet drops of emotions seasoned in her essence... making it difficult for me to walk away
though I doubt if I would ever stray;
too caught up in Poetry’s thick preposition and fascinated with her opulent,
* Revised for the new year, although my reason for writing is still the same........I'm obsessed with the taste of poetry.*