Sleep in a Puddle of Love

Bryce has a body and smile that is nice,
The fire in my heart melted the ice,
When we met my tears turned to a warm blush,
My face frown turned upside down, this is no crush.

Cannot stand still, my womanhood quivers, flows
Like a flood of love in the rapids rush,
My little man in the boat paddles the river of lust,
Flowers of lust bloom below the waterfall
Crashing between my searing hot and glistening thighs.

Run . . . run . . . run . . . into my bed we jump,
This isn’t a hump but a thrashing quest,
Unsatisfied with men with no skill,
I crave a baseball batter who can swing his stick
Like a pro, for an hour, for a night, a day, a week in bed,
We lose score of how many screams, rainstorms, and explosions.

Fight . . . fight . . . fight. . . we move like crashing waves,
Like sweaty boxers we battle, blood, sweat, slaves
To the lust, we drink fully, who cares if we behave,
We loved like a poisoned Queen frantically searching for the antidote.

Sleep . . . sleep . . . sleep in a puddle of love,
Rolling, trashing, we attack again,
In my dreams, awakened again, splash
A wet dream driven by bodies crashing.