PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

My standards and expectations have reduced

in my lust-hungry, pheromone-induced

state of existence.

I offer no resistance

as he reaches for my center

with the utmost persistence.

I allow him to enter

66.6% of my apertures.

Then after, his sticky sticks

to my pursed and puckered lips.

Suckered into sucking the tip

and licking the shaft.

Drafting plans of slick ways

to get him inside me;

ass up, head down

for him to ride me.

But when we end this raucous ride,

in me, will he confide,

when he is no longer in me?

Objectified with my permission.

No objections, just submission

to the infections that erections

eject on my breasts

like a sweet, white, warm confection.

A warmth that might turn to fire,

fueling that fatal desire

that continuously allows me

to get burned.

And as I discern when's

the next time he will arouse me,

in my solitude, I wonder,

will I ever learn?