Yearning for this moment of passionate ecstasy.
Waiting for the right time to plant my seed.
Deeply… I want to embrace these emotions.
As a sudden burst of relief leaves a mess like a broken dam.
Pick you apart like soft pedals on a rose.
Rosey cheeks, as if it’s a cold winter day.
Embracing your vessel as mine radiates warmth.
I want to dissect each crevice and taste the forbidden passion fruit.
Most days we sit and ponder about wanting to stay in our youth.
As time goes by the spark seems as if it isn’t there.
With sudden acts of poetic passionate aggression, I’ve opened up a can that seemed sealed and locked away.
Peeling away your garments like the skin on an orange.
As your juices flow out, there seems to be a sweet scent in the air.
Nothing can compare to those long cold nights.
Yearning for that steamy moment of ecstasy…
….yet there’s nothing but an empty bed with a long gone ghost.
Emotions embodied, where it feels most the most.
Unfortunately there isn’t an adjacent host to hostage those cravings.
Left alone filled with frustration, as if you’re waiting on a delayed flight.
Close your eyes and cringe as your arousal has a sudden departure…