Of Poetry and Passion

I want someone who I can read poetry in bed to
I’d tickle his throat, make his breath hitch
As I give voice to my passion
He’d hold me close and I’d pay attention
To every hum and movement of his

Deep into his soul I’d peer and my lips would touch his
With a tremble I’d deliver a couplet
The words that have touched my mind
And found an escape on our breaths
As he would look at me with unwavering eyes

Softly his hands would caress my curves
Then listen in silent rapture
His lips, they would smile and run amok
Like a parched traveller who licks at droplets of water

“Oh!” I’d moan, “What sweet passions!”
And my body would respond avidly to his coaxing lips
My skin will be his paper and his lips a pen
Words would be lost and there’d be only poetry

And when dawn would come, I will write of the passion
But the words were no comparison
To the strings that tugged at my heart
For I long for someone, a love pure and true
And watch him in his peaceful slumber
Till words fail to come hither

Credits: Nemisha S. and Me

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