She kissed me.
Lightnin’ would have been a slight shock
by comparison
to what my body was feeling.

Her skin so smooth
so soft.

Her tongue touching mine...
Her tongue on me...
Her tongue
on my arms
my wrist
my hands
my fingers
my chin
my cheeks
my chest
my lips
my tongue
touching hers.

Her hands found me
wet
and I was putty!
Pure Putty!

She would be so sweet
on a whiskey sour night
dipped with
straight whiskey
straight
on her lips.

Her hair so full of stories
and wisdom
and sexual know-how
(even if she doesn’t believe)
and I don’t want her to change a strand.
Not a single hair.

Beautiful is the misty-re smile and
curious brown brow.

This is not a love poem.
Just one to remind me of the blissful power of
the delicate kiss.

I don’t think I can wait until Sunday.
I want to call her
and tell her
she is making my blood work
for its residency
right now.
It’s pumping through my body
so I can feel in places
not usually awake
during the day.
Some how she must know this is her way.
Some how...





- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

Location:Charlottesville, VA