PoeticaL's PoetrY diary
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12:53 p.m. : 2002-08-08
In my dream, he pulls the sheets back and they are clean, a clean white-silk landscape. He stands over me and takes off his button fly cotton real slow piercing my baby fine flesh with his stare. He lies down next to me, pours me a glass of cold champagne. Pours the champagne over my naked body, licks it up, and makes sweet love to me. Afterward, all wrapped up in his arms. He thinks I am passionate, too passionate not to again touch, grazing his hand over my still quivering thigh. I sit silently, watching his inscrutably beautiful eyes, and lap up my hot coffee he gives with his smile. It will take me a lifetime to get inside his head, all the way inside his heart, but he is willing to wait while I try because here is a woman worth waiting for, worth waiting for her to catch up. He doesn’t say this with words, but I can tell it is what he is thinking. I can tell because when he kisses me, his tongue lingers over every curve and muscle inside of my mouth. His hands brush away my coffee cup. He is everything as he kisses me into being enough by laying his lullaby eyes within my touch.
"everything truly good I've ever seen i've only seen in your eyes" - PoeticaL
