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-

touched everything-

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-

exhaled sweetly-

satisfied with every day he sleeps beside me-

i am full

i am wet

i am wide open and happy.

i am loved.