A poem about the aroma of a woman. |
One Night Scent Excuse me Miss You smell like someone I want to take home Maybe we can talk and proceed to bone Little miss has an agenda of her own she dreams of creating a happy home with picket fences, little feet tracking mud onto the floor She takes this proposition as the magical cure So instead of acknowledging the illusion She disregards all the possible conclusions Hope and faith strings her out Holding her soul desire of this life’s clout Her smell is suffocatingly strong causing a release of slow leaking moans Breathing is a fetish for him He steps out on a limb As he reaches for her arm And embrace her with his whispered charm The air shifts ever so slightly He licks his lips lightly As she melts into the wetness As his arms wrap around her they dance in various speeds of lust the confused wonderment of each other she is tucked into a magical tomorrow only to wake up holding a question mark in her hand periods are stamped across his forehead replacing yesterday’s exclamations hyphenated with the finality of her once heady whiff. she drags herself away in a trance reliving last night’s dance the felt deja vu was the clue Dropping hints in his flared nostils The adams apple bobbing in a crazed gasp for one last breathe the effect remains the same it goes by life’s hindsight’s name bottle it up so it fades undetected engineered to kill andthen repent Lord, discontinue this one night scent. 2005 v.andre’a |