PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Too much time on my hands.

Time to imagine your masculinity

caressing my sugar walls.

Time to remember

how your gripped your member

as I watched.

Too much time on my hands

to recollect how you held my hand;

how you folded yours in mine

as we performed a lascivious grind;

and I think "too much time..."

On my hands I feel your milk

of male virility,

hot and thick as it spills on me,

meant to one day,

nourish a woman's femininity

and for a moment I wonder if that woman

might be me,

but like I said, too much time.

Too much time before I get

to hear your voice "en vivo",

laugh with your laugh

or see your face

or touch your hand

or sneak a taste.

Too much time on my hands

to think about that man -

and what might have been.