The Taste of Morning

When I awoke this morning,
Your face was in my mind
And my hand was between my thighs.
Even in my sleep
I can't get enough of you.

I think about your haunting eyes.
Your hands, your forearms, your chest, your thighs,
So thick with masculinity,
And my hands caress my secret places.

I wake up in full flood,
My fingers drenched with dreams of you.
Rubbing and stroking instinctively,
Trying to sate the hunger
That burns for you inside me.

Helplessly, I want you...
A movie that plays inside my eyes, always set on repeat.
A movie that makes me tremble
With desire for you.

You kiss and caress my consciousness
With that way you have about you.
Your mind touches mine with the lightest of strokes...
Then arrows in for the kill.

Tight sighs and languid legs.
Focused to a laser point,
My love blazes through me like rippling fire,
Every breath a zephyr of flame.

As I simmer in the aftermath,
Relieved...but not for long,
I raise my hand to my eager lips
For a lick of the only part of love
I'm able to share with you.

When I arose this morning,
I stumbled to the kitchen for lifeblood.
With tousled hair and sleepy eyes,
I sat in my chair and contemplated
The taste of coffee and me.