Infatuation

I never have fancied myself as the “love poem” type of poet Rather’d I be more caught up in passionate feelings surrounding Political revolutions Welfare systems And Hot, grimy, funky sex The kind that instantly brings memories of wet bed sheets Probably ain’t have no business doing it in the first place But it sho feel good And you sho smell good And I sho can’t keep my fingers off of You See I ain’t never been the love poem type of girl But I sho can love you good And long And hard Like penetration though I’m trying to take it slow Like licking watermelon juice off the bottom of your chin Hickies beneath your blouse Scratches across your back Dirty like we ain’t showered but it’s still good See love poems require time and thought But when I think of you I am able to close my eyes and write from memory Can feel your nakedness gripped tightly between my fingers The smell of my face buried inside of you The taste of No, there is nothing about you that requires thinking because things happen naturally But I do desire to write a love poem one day Before the love is gone and I’m only left with remnants of what we shared But here and now The faint rise of your nipples against your blouse has caught my attention and I’d much rather live in the moment

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