Your Words

It's amazing, the power of words -
Not just what is said but heard -
Like a kiss and caress...
The stroke of a long vowel,
The tickle of a fricative,
The sharp snap of a glottal stop,
The harsh cry of a consonant,
Or the puddle of a liquid glide.

Your words linger long after I've read them,
Spin and twirl in my mind.
Sometimes a whirling dervish
Sometimes a soft moan or two,
But there they are.
Whenever I pause long enough
I can hear them, and you.

I crave your words
On the page and in my ear.
I want to know how you do it,
See so deeply, make me feel so strongly.
What is the motivation, the inspiration?
Lend me your insight, teach me
So I can be a little more like you.
What is your way to escape
The words that surround you?
How do you find the time to write
All of the beautiful things you do?
Who are you?

I also want to know all of your lustful language
And bask in the brilliance,
The mastery it takes to write sex like you do.
How is it possible to know me
So well in a story you wrote
When you haven't met me?
Know all the hidden pieces of my body,
The soft secret spots that make me weep
Inside and out?
Where does this power come from?
Who fueled it and fanned it
Into the flame which is now consuming me?
A flame composed of
Such scintillating syntax,
Rhythmic syllables,
Juicy, tasty, grammatically correct
Words....

Is this idolatry I'm feeling?
Maybe it's the thrill of discovery.
Perhaps it’s more like
Fixated Fascination.
But why describe or fight it?
Why not let your words take me
Away from my own
Into a lush fantasy,
For you write oh so beautifully.
Descriptive deep dives into my psyche
Until I'm as lost as the characters on the page,
Spinning and searching through revelations of self.

Oh, to write like you,
To gain the power of the sexes.
How do you know, as a man,
Exactly what my woman's body
Is thinking and feeling?
It's chilling, thrilling, stunning...
I now believe in telepathy.
You must have some supernatural ability
To understand women the way you do,
How to play on our senses,
Build our anticipation,
Tease us into a frenzy
With just your words.

Oh your words...
They are here in the dark with me
Long after they've been read.
They are in my internal images,
In the pads of my fingers,
Sliding and bumping along my soft skin.
They are here beneath my panties
In that "oven" down below,
Begging for release in little sharp heart beats.

Your words are here
In the hot damp recess between my thighs,
In my plump folds and deep valleys,
Aching in pursuit of you long after I've used fingers
And thumb to tap out what they've said.
They are here in the post "orgasmic-glow"
As my heart races to catch up with my breath.
Your words linger, and I hunger
After every lascivious stroke.

Please write more, dear author,
Give me your words,
Tell me more about myself
Through your lovely insightful characterization
Of those fantastical women that might just be me.
Teach me more about men
Who, like you, have become
A living fantasy in my mind.
Teach me how to love
With abandon,
How to fuck
With skill,
How to ask for what I want
When I want and need it.
Show me the world one line,
One paragraph, one page at a time.
Take me with you to exotic spaces
Kissed by sand and sun,
In hidden cabins on rolling seas,
On midnight train rides,
To hotel rooms with thin walls
And soft beds with teased co-eds.
I want to be there with you,
Cumming to the beat, the stroke, the cry
Of your words.

Citation Note: A BIG thank you to Thatsbogus, an author on this site for whom this poem is ultimately dedicated. The words in quotes are borrowed from his pages. But this poem is overall a thank you to all authors who have given me similar inspiration over the many hours spent reading on this site. Thank you for sharing.