I thought it would be interesting if I wrote an erotic poem in a male's perspective. I wonder if men feel this way.. Hmmmm..... It's a nice thought, having men out there feeling as passionate about the person he loves as the guy in this story is.
Our clothes lay strewn about,
Amongst wine bottles and an empty cigarette pack.
Our shoes lying in one another,
I am a nervous wreck of myself,
With nothing to protect me but my pale, hot flesh.
I fumble about like I've never done this before.
We let our whims and fancies control us,
And now this union can't be undone.
She can barely breathe the words "don't stop..."
I am her loyal servant,
A measly peasant in her presence,
So I obey my queen's wishes.
My lips touch every inch of her body.
They find their way blindly on the road map to hell,
As if they knew where to go all along.
The sweat starts to mix and bead.
She tastes tangy and sweet.
Our bodies entertwine with the bedsheets.
Lust is never neat.
Our blood boils with the body heat.
Such a pretty disaster we make.
She is my angel with a broken halo.
I am her anti-christ,
The darkest of knights.
I fight the urge to profess my love.
As we make our dirtiest thoughts into reality,
Moralities start to blur,
And I become the john to your beaconing whore.
I linger at her alter,
For what seems like forever,
I pray to the gods of nothing.
Lost in our sweet sins,
I completely surrender.
"Voi, vittu... Vittu..." I can't stop myself from saying.
After a while,
A sign tonight's ecstasy is over.
Sweat and smoke swirls around us,
And entombs our bodies,
As we sit quietly in our bliss.
I can smell the remnants of the beautiful lustful shame that just occured.
I can taste her with each breath that I take.
"We should stay this way forever.." she says quietly.
A madman's grin that I cannot hide starts to come across my face.
I fight the urge to profess,
Because I want this insanity to last.