- Erotic Poetry
- Futile Desire
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I make for you a Crawford face, tease
the mane of boxed-blonde locks, don
a spandex slip-like dress, black lace
garter with matching thong. Three
inch heels complete the look that
you prefer to see.
You take me out and show me off on
evenings that you play. I watch the buttons on your board slide beneath
a
loving touch- higher, slowly... higher still
and wish that they were me.
Upon return, you greet your world of
bodiless make-believe. Janet dances
for you while you push Mariah's swing,
A slithering jewel beckons-Paula seeps with urgency then the
stock market update brings you back to me.
The garb I wore to please you- to strip
away and tease you with
remains on my own pretty frame.
I search your face for a passionate clue,
wait to hear some gentle words. I want
my roving kiss returned and ache to slide beneath your touch higher,
slowly...higher
still- the thrill that you get from the music
you make is a trip you don't take
when you 'make love' to me.
