Poetica 18

My fingertips trace your smooth thighs.
My familiar hand steers past your rounded hips and crashes into their vertex.
You whisper your longing in between breaths.
As my fingers tune you to the highest pitch.
There will be plucking and blowing.
Leading to a percussion of musical moans.

Poetica 17

I wove words into our lovemaking.

Hoping they would tie your mind to mine.

You rode me like a boat rocking.

Held me down so I never went out of line.

We could feel the mattress sinking.

Your trembling thighs was my sign.

Poetica 15

I see you and my hand reaches out to grab you

I catch a whiff of your body as my fingers trace your spine.

I can’t wait for us to get home so I can taste you on my fingers.

I can’t wait to spread you open and take in the view.

You will pull me in so deep, I might forget what I came to do.

Before I lay you down, I need to unlock more chapters.

My bookmark slides in and I shelve my new book.

Poetica 14

I want to be the electric pulse that feeds your thoughts.
This way when they become words you would speak of me.

I want to be part of your actions every time I fire shots.
This way you can do me like a habit with which I agree.

I want to be a character in your life story, no more casting lots.
This way we will be coming and going as our neighbours spill the tea.

I want to be your destiny, you were lead here by the dots.
I pretend to eat you but I’m here to serve you on bended knee.

Poetica 13

It’s misty, my eyes are not teary, just signs of rain.
I’m scorched and hard, burning with desire to be your earth.
You’re feisty, your eyes are fiery, justify the pain.
No longer a nesting bird, I’m flowing to your hearth.
We’re misty, we get all “teary”, our garments are slain.
We’re in the yard, I’m speaking my worth.

Poetica 12

One hand meets another and together they meet the bedsheets.
One tongue meets another and wrestle to the pillow.
One move finds another and the rhythm rocks the bed.
One wave meets the other and we both drown.

Poetica 11

I want you to follow my letters.
See how I dot you eyes and cross your teats.
I want you to follow my words.
Feel my tongue spell on your tummy.
I want you to follow my phrases.
The short and the freaky of them between your legs.
I want you to follow my story.
The one I write and spill ink for.
You want me to know just one thing.

“Stop your damn chattering and get inside me!!!”