- Erotic Poetry
- the smell called YOU
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Oh God yes.
Let me bury my face
in your armpit, in your neck,
in all of the cracks and crevices
I wanna bury myself everywhere
where you’re hot and wet
and smelling so different to me.
Let me lick the droplets
that run down the centre of your back
and breathe you in as you press yourself into me.
The sweat you create
when you’ve just got off your bike
after a long ride.
After you’ve run from the bus stop to my house,
concealing an uncomfortable erection.
The sweat we work up together
during a nice, active fuck.
If you announce, post-workout,
that you’re off to jump in the shower,
I’ll appreciate your desire for cleanliness
but a tiny bit of my heart will break
For I wont get a chance to make the most of the smell
that says ‘you’ more than anything else.
It’s better because it’s natural.
Because it’s so unequivocally you.
Because, no matter how hard you try,
you probably can’t bottle it.
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