deepundergroundpoetry.com

Talking Dirty

 
So-o-o-o,
you want to  
fuck my mind  
steal my thoughts  
then hold me down  
on your lusty bed of reason  
and thrust your opinions  
hard into my face.  
 
In the morning  
you'll ask:  
How was it for you?  

Did the earth move... 
more than once?  
 
And I'll say:
Baby,  
you were better than a book.  
You were my blue sky
after a storm,  
my dictionary  
full of big brown eyes  
crammed with rich green phrases,  
sentences sprouting like peas  
doubled up to pop  
from a perfect pod  
in the right place  
at the right time  
with a shiny new cherry on top.  
 
But then I always  
did like  
you talking dirty  
after dinner.  
 
Written by Abracadabra
Published | Edited 9th Jul 2012
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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