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Click hereIf freezing rain is your blood
It would heat me
Your shallow pond
Proves the playground
Of my growth
Filled with toys of intrusion
Salted and garlic sautéed
We dabble in hair pulling
With drawn butter
Flinging identities
I need your slap
The stain and marks
A proof that we have been
There, done that
Felt the walk
Talked the talk
Remember the time in my dream that you insisted on walking back and forth alongside the bed as I reached out to cup your ass and understand the muscle in your upper thighs and lower at your insistence,
so often stepping away,
out of reach,
grinning, then smothering me
between your breasts?