morning love,
morning dew,
you ask me to
be inside of you.
the glow of the sun,
hits your face with grace,
as I knead your orifice of
paradise.
you love when my grapes
are slightly ripe, smelling hairs,
tickling your libido.
hand around thee throat,
raw-ly giving you strokes,
stroke for stroke,
you ask for more force,
my sexual appetite is
the source of this morning
excursion.
kitchen to bed,
to shower to bed,
I love when you say “fuck me.”
the way you say my name,
seductively, rolls out from your
windpipe, to my eardrums,
like a bowling ball,
and sits there, begging me
to give you every (pin) drop.
morning love,
morning coffee,
you want the pipe,
you say “rough-ly.”
you lay your head
on my chest, resting,
at first, feeling my
morning thirst.
say my name again,
deeper I will go,
intestines smooth,
I’m glad you made the
first move, in the park.
rock hard, as you ride
me into the sunrise, I stare
deeply into your eyes, as
I penetrate your…
oh! wanting to know every
scar on your cappuccino like,
silky skin, oatmeal milk
included.
you sit on my palate,
like you do in the library:
with presence,
earning the spot in my
heart, like I learned the
spot between your thighs,
and if tapped correctly,
it will make us both,
fall in love.
