Object

I know it’s not politically correct
To look at you the way that I do
But I can’t help the way my mind thinks

I’ve sized you up
And stripped you down
Butt naked
With my bedroom eyes
Hoping that you’ll catch a glimpse
Of how I’m contemplating
Making love to you in my mind

I get caught up in
The details
Of how I can bend you to my will
Impress you
With my skill
Raise your temperature
Push your desire
To climaxes hill
All before I
Even approached you

You see
I like to perfect my craft
Perform my tasks
And get lost in each moment

I’ll probably forget your name
But I’ll remember
Every single
beautiful
inch
of your body

As I
Make each hair stand
And
Consume every
Release
You can muster
I continue my quest
I refuse
To let you rest

You see it’s like I’m making love to myself
But I’m using you as my sex toy

You were spent hours ago
I’ve ceased to hear your screams and moans of passion

At this point
I’m doing this shit for my own pleasure



Hell...

You were satisfied with the poetry