You are scared
Of being my inspiration
Of being just words and getting lost
in my solitary mental foreplay

How do I explain
that sometimes words are all I have?
And the web they create with you in it
Is all I can give you for now?

A rhyme in return
for your limbs enveloping me…
A passionate love story
in trade for the hours we spend
raising the temperature
amidst closed walls

Is it fair?
Is it enough?
Is it vocal and
yet private enough?

Are you willing girl
to be my poeme tonight?
To flow from my limbs
onto paper?

To become my muse
for another moment
Even when you are
not entangled in my life?

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Late Bloomer, Coffee Drinker, French-Frier. Romance in her head. Erotica in her bones!
Tappy Tippy

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