he told me i was his poetry girl
caramel skinned long thick locks
and he, tall thin framed-
he was my extra large cinammoned cappacino-
whipped cream and all;
bringing song and light when he was around.
his essence was like a diarrhetic
and words were what spewed from my lips constantly finding vocabulary to describe him.
how many ways can i say delicious?
i couldn’t let that slip through my fingers so i held on tight
and rode that brown horse like life depended on it.
he spared nothing-
eyelids, palms, backs of knees and baby toes.
he oozed exquisite juices like mango and fresh papaya
sipped in front of the ocean in san juan;
me, his poetry girl and him my absolute delight-
making me excited to breathe in every breath-
and i inhaled fully-
opened up my lungs to take in life with him-
next to me-
satisfied with every day he sleeps beside me-
i am full
i am wet
i am wide open and happy.
i am loved.