PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Your thighs are more pleasing

than apple trees, whose blossoms

extend toward the sky – meeting

at your V-shaped cupola where

pleasures can only be matched

within the halls of heaven. 

I was the man peasant who awoke

in your bed, remembering

the woman I smelled to wake me,

after one sultry Friday night that seared

my soul to the core; with one solitary

gaze upon your supple breasts. 

My veins glowed with arousal, as you

pulled me in like gravity to witness

your scented bloom, garnishing your body

so beautifully that it haunts my memory

still, a tender splice so warm, delicate,

moist, and femininely confident. 

You precious sweet little lady,

folding your love around me like droplets

canoodling rose petals after a Spring

rain. Your face washed before the sun; my

tongue dancing with your raspberry

nipples growing formal in my mouth. 

How erotic the kisses bussing

from your lips, searching me out

along with your petite fingers, carefully

like an angel playing the harp; and oh

how you guided me, sliding me

into your wet, buttery cave. 

I retained your pleasure on my face,

as it penetrated your pink, silk paradise,

cuddling me in waves - like a floating womb

moving in and out, peacefully serene

as a kitten purr; this, the first time, the only

opening needed to make me… 

fall in love with you

for eternity.