Transfiguring Lips Into Fabergé Petals

Transfiguring lips into Fabergé petals Feeling decadent painting the night sky Let us rejoice with our illustrious words Palpitating deliberately when bliss is nigh These fanciful & bountiful thoughts of yonder Possibly plentiful but not quite enough for us Imaginative; creating a softer substantial side We’re most serene when we’re a bit mussed

I Trace Your Lips

I trace your lips with my fingerSuch pouty perfection in this faceI want to devour you right hereBut in public is not the proper placeSo I whisper one word: “tonight”& let you think upon that all dayYou’ll stew & simmer & imagineHow all this love will be conveyed

Sitting Out On The Porch Swing

Sitting out on the porch swingSkirt spread flat over rocking legsExhausted from the daily routineTired of sharing life with the dregsClosing weary eyes to dream againImagining a reassuring, masculine formKnowing this could finally be differentThis could be comfort in the coming storm

Aroused By The Typewriter’s Bell

Aroused by the typewriter’s bellI’m salivating like Pavlov’s dogImagining caffeinated morningsWalking the Sunset within the fogThough those were forgotten emotionsI’m not able to repeat that formSo I do my best to feel the originalSometimes I’m hard to notice before the storm