I’m Not Ready…

I’m not ready, to end this freaky affair, I’m not ready, to go nowhere… – Keith Sweat, “I’m Not Ready.”

How does something end without even beginning?

How do you tell “our story”? How will you say how you met me and where we met? How we only made love three times? Three times.

The first time, the first time alone…

How can you talk about that? How can you describe….that?

What will you say?  

That you were finishing my sentences after having met me only an hour before…

That your heart was pounding so loudly, I could feel it when my fingers softly touched your chest…

That when you touched me, my body actually tingled and you felt it in your fingertips… 

You called it. You said I was electric

Sensational.

How are you going to talk about loving me?

That I made you moan uncontrollably, even though I covered your mouth with mine..

That I had to hush baby to remind you to keep quiet because your sounds were so sexy…

That you couldn’t keep from staring into my eyes with every thrust, enjoying the look of pleasure, knowing you were giving me that pleasure…

That your body froze once you spilled into me and you called my name. My name

That you wanted to swallow me whole with every kiss…your tongue exploring and never tiring and wanting more and wishing time would stand still…

You said I was amazing. You called me a queen.

What about the second time?  How you spent your birthday in my bed? And how I was trying to wait until midnight to kiss you but I couldn’t wait any longer and your eyes softened like you were in love when I reached over and put my lips on yours? How we were trying so patiently to prolong our love time together so we talked, we talked about why you thought it made sense that I like giraffes? And how we laughed out loud at your choice of animal and we were giddy and youthful and fun? And how, when you undressed, it was an urgency to have your naked body on my bare skin?

How am I going to forget you? How?

Forget the temperature of your skin.

Forget the warmth of your hugs.

Forget the shape of your lips.

Forget the long stroke of your slender fingers.

Forget that scar above your eyebrow, the one I always ask about.

Forget the feel of your back on my fingertips.

Forget the strength of those legs that keep me pinned to this bed.

Forget the length of you that fills me completely.

How?

And the last time….

If I knew that would be our last time, you’d still be here. 

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It’s Your Birthday

Happy birthday.

I know it’s your day but I want to unwrap you. I want to peel away every item that’s keeping me from…

….that skin. That milk chocolate that melts in my mouth. Sweet. Delicious.

I want to intertwine my fingers with yours and look into your eyes and let you know when…

…I’m ready. That mouth that speaks nothing but sweetness, talking about “princess” and “baby” but you know I ain’t nobody’s princess. Take me from this kingdom though….

….take me anywhere.

It’s your birthday. Feel free to take me anywhere. Take this love I give you, do with it as you please.

I’ll make you remember today, make you wish every day was your birthday. I’ll blow at your ear the way I do and lick your navel like you like me to. Heh. You got me rhyming.

Lets celebrate. Let me unwrap you. And then…

…you can unwrap me too.

Happy birthday Michael.

Five years. We met for the first time right after your birthday; I wanting to make up for lost time, you wanting to stop time. Nothing’s changed since then aside from stronger feelings and happier hearts. And you? You make this heart smile. From the moment you pulled at my coat collar to kiss me, lips quivering in anticipation, hearts pounding, you had me.

I want to celebrate. Unwrap me now…

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