Trying to overcome an existential crisis
Harking back to those foundational years
Emerging out of my own wounded shadow
Striving headlong into those ancient fears
Transitionally limping along these days
But my injuries aren’t those to be seen
Nor the stretch marks upon my soul
Yearning for the notion of becoming clean
Throughout it all, forever fond of the Blonde
Woman, hold me close to your breast
Tell me this life is going to be all right
That together, entangled; we’ll always be blessed
Where is my absurd little coffee this morn
Claiming to be something or other
I rise slower, wiping Pixie Dust from my eyes
Never forget the dreams they try to smother
My gorgeous blonde lady sleeping peacefully
Our love burnt brightly into a passionate fire
I stretch my legs & smile at a job well done
She’ll slumber for a while, for she’s kind of tired
I can still make mature women blush
Knowing the proper placement of words
Using my tongue to enunciate firmly
The rhythm of recitement, she slowly purred
The fertile experience of rapturous joy
Pause a moment, so she won’t catch her death
Letting her pulse settle to reasonable levels
Returning to the living, joy in each & every breath
The bold blonde with big, bouncy curls
Much-maligned missionary souls
Falling in love was always my fatal flaw
Especially once I’ve relinquished control
My sweatshirt still lingers with her scent
Pondering what all the flirting meant
Remembering the clouds glowing from the lights
Sitting on the hood, enjoying her company that night
I can still see her – with her long blonde hair
She looked so beautiful standing out there
She wore a smart suit
Setting her apart from the rest
She was a fine specimen
Altered from her years out West
The tailor created perfection
It loved her feminine curve
The details you won’t miss
Feeling beauty in your structured nerves
Those blonde curls, nice & tight
Noticing underthings peeking through
Regaining my composure in time
Don’t want my excitement to be misconstrued
Image by Daria Nepriakhina from Pixabay
She makes my heart beat
The way she coyly flirts
She always has my attention
When she flips up her skirt
I continuously feast upon her
The world knows I’m rather fond
I love her beyond my words
The girl with the dirty blonde
Closing my hand around her concept
The starkness of her blonde aspiration
Seeing the truth behind her veil
My ministrations lead to her liberation
Captain Q 