I’ve been intensely grinding my molars in suspense of her arrival…
The coming and coming over.
Lusting the use of the apparatus of space and science designed ribbed or extra thin,
Bringing me either closer too or providing a more pleasurable template for her to press on.
They don’t write novels like these any more.
The kinds that make palms sweat relentlessly and evoke clitoral erections.
Nipples stand on cliff side’s.
For the molecular intimacy of a moment’s pitch…
She’ll be bride to me as usual; not my bitch.
She’s on her way you know. Bringing sin and exotica with her.
Coupled with love, liquor, lagger, lotions, oils and special places for me to lick her….
Cues I seek to square them and manipulate their properties like Rubik’s cube.
The minute she walks in I’m challenging her to a duel,
A battle to the finish where touches mend stab wounds and bear hugs drain fuel.
Hand-to-hand disembodied collisions,
Pornhub positions and I swear I’ve been practicing.
The long winter months between us verify nothing but extended data usage in massive overages.
SMS sext images. I hope Google isn’t tracking,
I’m attacking verified weak spots to kill her; new era assassin.
Love plays an important part of the equation.
I love to love her too
Crowding her arm’s reach with libido and testosterone doubles.
I just need her to hurry over so I can hurdle over…
What ever, lays between all places: legs, doorways, sheets, clothing, music and condom wrappers.
****Original photo credit due to Reality Kings, edited by Fahdah Away*****