Loving you is a drug
I know I should quit you
But the further I stay clear
The more I want you near.
Loving you is like a black potion
Effervescent, implicit
So much I don’t wish to commit to stay
Yet here I am again.
Loving you is a hurt I yearn for everyday
In bed I lie in bed awaiting your return
Your sultry voice whispering my name
That also comes with your touch.
All land ends at the sea:
All matter, including non-living
The sea was our birth
In death, after all joy, sorrow and pain is spent
The sea then beckons us to return
Recycled like a hurricane’s eye
Who knows what next we will become
Would we even care at all?
Her name was Victoria and she had a secret
It came in the form of questions
Of which I, at that moment, unceremoniously bore the answer:
To guess if she had on any bra under her shirt
And if right, were her nipples hard or relaxed
She wrapped a blindfold around my eyes
All I had of her presence was her perfume: Coco Chanel
She proffered my hand and laid it on her thigh
“Come on, big boy,” she teased. “I’m waiting.”
Sultry lips coated with lipstick
Her hand stole onto my crotch
I was hard: I wanted her so bad.
We were in her home, in her bedroom on Lenox Avenue
The wind from the lake ruffled the curtains
Her husband was out of town
The neighbours might have seen us together
Noisy bastard, except she didn’t care
My hands roamed past her thigh to grasped her rump
She chortled. “Warmer,” she cooed
Under her shirt they slipped
I gasped at the feel of her naked skin
Exquisite
I cupped her tits
Naked; her nipples hard and excited
She laughed and flung off her shirt
She sat on my lap and loosened my blindfold
“Now, my secret is yours,” she murmured,
Sealing my lips with a kiss.
PhilOyok 