Make. Love. To.

Me.

The kind of love
That makes me
Take notes, sift
Though the creative
Files of my brain
As you stimulate
My intellectual mind

Words arresting me

Holding my responses

Hostage in the room

Of interrogation

Four scores

Of foreplay

From a fluent tongue

 

How your noun and

Verb agreement tickle

Me, causing me to

Shift nervously in my

Seat, each thought

More profound than

The one before

Entering the stratosphere

Of genius and galloping

Into the hallway of

My left and right

Hemispheres knocking

On all the doors

 

Come in

 

Take your shoes off

And get comfortable

Your eyes penetrate

Me, roaming the

Terrain taking in

The pools of my honey

Whiskey that sparkle

In the sun

 

Digging deeper into

Me your eyes say things

Words can never convey

Not seeing through me

But seeing through to me

The deeper me

 

Intoxicated with your stares

Stroke after stroke after stroke

Of my hair, as you massage

Me into a coma

Wanted and inviting

Your hands are sorcery

Gifted to you by a

Woman who knew she’d

Found love

 

You add enough friction

To my scalp

And integrate words to

Take me to a place

That doesn’t exist

Altogether lovely

Totally out of this world

 

Resuscitate this lifeless

Body, breathe new life

Into it 2 breaths, so

Minty fresh and 50

Compressions later

Leaves me gasping

For air and confessing

Grasping for straws and

Eager for the next lesson

 

Make love to me

The me you can’t

Physically reach

Limitations we won’t

Ever teach each other

just try it

Bourbon and cobbler

Warm and flaky

Sweet Georgia peach

Smothered

 

There is a level of

Intimacy both deep

As it is wide.

The heightened level

Of knowing that,

Stands alone

Tests the waters

Walks on them

And then testifies

 

Make love to….

Me.

 

 

Fj original 2016