the way he lusts for me
makes my fabric come undone,
I blush, profusely when he asks to enter my plush Palace, merely with his crown,
or dialects of his tongue.
I fear he see’s an uncontained fire in my eyes,
passed my aloofness to explain,
notices how serious I become in thought,
he’ll scratch my thighs,
while calling out my name.
I must say images have crossed my mind
to take him down, but only
because he refuses to take,
No for an answer ,
like he see’s that which I hide,
that wild uninhibited side,
that teasingly lashes out,
yet fairly warns him,
not to enter.
He worships the ground I walk on, but prefers my pedestal High,
he values my inner dinner, imagining, the conviction of its cries.
He chases me in his dreams,
to unleash this unbearable lust,
never the wiser,
that I have enough passionate filled thoughts, roaming, untamed,
for the both, of us. In overdrive, my imagination, starts off a slow ballad,into a thunderous, Rasta type rush.
With all the special skills featured, in between, that’ll win the promise ,of my blush.
So cute, how he’s unaware of my sinister moves,
the waiting inside job,
like expensive liquor sneaking up smoothly,
As my grin and cursed hyde, successfully,
pulls him in every direction, engulfing every inch,
I’ve fairly warned him many times,
crushed velvet is a game-changer,
but his lust guides his hopeful wings,
placing him in the center of my impending danger.
I think he takes it lightly, seeing a challenge to this,
I keep warning him, for his own good, that which my eyes witnessed. The ingredients of this circumstance, will
make him look inside,
as I joke to myself,
That he’ll “insert his heart, and be searching for his pride”.
Believe me, I’m not bragging just passing
a word on to the wise, arrogance left years ago,
regarding the mysterious curse at these thighs.
I walk the walk, so passionately, I love to talk til the saga ends.
Think of it this way,
if I give it to you,
like I want,
I’ll have to kill…
Snapping out of my fantasy, to fairly warn once more
As my insides scream, to enjoy, his lust, my mind reminds me,
of what the past,
has taught me,
never again, too trust.
Erotic Poetry 18+ Mature Content
By Tamara Dorsey-Moore
Thinker on the Loose
Copyright © 2017