ooh.
the one with jeans
straight-legged
my soul, bled
as he read
on the stage from which he
performed.
whispered to myself
as i snapped
and clapped hands
acquiescent to this gift said:
"Dark Chocolate
sweet tea,
got me
lusting for he
for we
could it be
a possibility?
it's more than sexy
the way he walks
into the room
shoulders broad
beautiful 32's-
Nothing like beautiful teeth.
But the way his lips
curl across his face
makes more than a smile,
it's like sunshine
with grace.
never thought a member of
this human race
could even LOOK to taste
so good.
...he's offstage.
could?
should?
would i
extend a touch
to inform of much
love?"
a hand
-his hand-
reaches my shoulder and then
fantasies
of where else it could be...
quick snap back to reality
or excitement would be
all over me
and this seat.
................
making his way around the crowd
feelings cry loud.
.he's so charming.
it's so captivating
ingratiating
how he shakes hands
gives hugs, kisses
on cheeks
i, wishing they were for me
and me ONLY.
he looks through
the multitude
of spectators;
why flee?
i let our eyes meet
he winks
at me
smiling nervously.
"could it be
that those wonderful
tools for vision
were searching for mine?
but why?
why me?
in this whole place of 133
who may just love he
and his poetry
as equally
as i?"
................
*gasp*
once again,
on my shoulder,
the hand
"you're whispering to yourself"
he quietly said.
.how embarrassing.
"no, not really
because i can stop
all of your wondering..."
.man, he smells good.
instantly i remembered
that those tools of vision
were for looking into my soul
to know what i was thinking
what i felt
how my weakness
for him
was for no one else.
i know that i can
kiss him
hug him
lick him
LOVE him
ultimately because
this,
this gem is MY man
and no one could ever
love him more than me
-not EVER, unconditionally.
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