Poem 23 (Collection 3)

She sits there with legs tightly crossed
trying to fathom the depths of her urges,
feeling every cell quiver in feverish spasms,
angry at the pleasures rising at the centre of her chest
and the sensations that spurt out in her brain.

Take her home tonight,
run your fleshy fingers on the side of her breasts,
down to her waist,
and in between her legs;
watch as every hair on nape stands on its end
watch as she tightens her loins.
Work your tongue on her nipples
till they rise in attention.
Listen to her gasp and fumble
your name
or spit out a curse, as
she waits to be hunted on soft linen.

Spread her out.
Crouch and wait and then
plunge yourself into her
like an unforgiving animal
till she screams, pleads, and begs for more,
and digs her nails into your bare back –
to scribble her moans into
a tasteful piece of art.

Tame her –
the lady that’s undone.

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