A Privileged Tongue

Morning, noon, or night, any time of the day
seduced by the aroma of your epicurean bouquet.
Simmering, sizzling, stoking my fire.
The longer it takes and I wait, grows my desire.
Meanwhile molten driblets brandish my skin,
this pop, trickle, and bite, driving me to oblivion.
Hot and hard enough, finally done;
I part lips and greasy ambrosia quenches my tongue.
Your salty, clear nectar delights and thrills;
your delectable meat never fails to fulfill.
Satisfied, complete, all my taste buds awakened,
Everything is better when it involves bacon.

Magnetic

Her trembling fingers held aloft
by strings of tension
and coursing lava pulsing to the tips;
pounding and throbbing,
stretching and straining
against an invisible barrier so thick
with moral anguish, guilt.
Slip or trip over a precipice
thin and tantalizing;
she'd fall from grace.

Laying There

I do not just lay there.
I grab the moment
and seize
and soar;
and I choose to give in.

Monogamy

I enjoy being vulnerable
but it's a sin,
to open the doors
and let you within.
Reasonable reasons
and justifiable doubts,
set expectation - 
prudence so proud.
What does it leave me
but cold, hard, and wet?
Longing and wishing
for naive regret.

Safely Shattered

Ice, cold and tingle,
like mint that settles on my skin.
A plunge from a sudden drop into an embrace
so soft; I am fragile, like glass.
Sweet honey-laden breath mingles with mine,
and burns across my lips.

Awkward

It's like a moment stuck in an invisible net -
though honestly
I can't move because concrete boots anchor me to this catastrophe.
Somehow my stomach escapes in this devilish distraction of
smoke bomb muddied thoughts.
Now, you expect me to
focus on the outside world with this chaos?
A spectacle is born.

Insomnia or Sleep Quest

Familiar jittered fatigue - my old friend and frequent visitor.
Occasionally convenient.
Mostly tiring.

A regular journey to unite my heavy limbs and silent brain.
Sporadically arduous.
Rarely conclusive.