This is a passionate poem that is pure fantasy, it allows room for interpretation. |
He looks at me as a whole As though I were a gift saved best for last His eyes move from mine to my toes and through me My heart flutters, my breath quickens through the slowness of my chest My lips swell awaiting his to meet them His expert hands search me as his eyes never leave my own I hear his voice speak exquisite things into my ear as he opens his gift He begins to slowly open the gift all the while admiring it This gift he experiences with passion and taste Yet through it all I can not see his face I can feel him ravage me I can even see the rest of him Yet he still has not shown his face to me I can see his eyes and taste his kiss I can hear his every word Yet he still has not shown his face to me He has visited me in my dreams and mind He seems to wait just long enough to allow me to think I have forgotten Then he comes to me when I least expect He delivers a memorable tantalizing experience that can only be passion He teases me with these things He makes me long to find him Yet I know the game is we must find each other I am not to seek him out but wait patiently For we will meet very soon The moment is so close and time must not waste If only I could see his face. |