poem is never finished, only abandoned. ~Paul Valéry
Beyond Blue Eyes
As I sit on my hands, as they tell you to do
I calmly watch her breasts swinging fro and to
Inches from my face, begging me to taste...
Quivering leg muscles from dancing on stilletos
Sweaty palms gently caress my hair
She was always able to keep my attention.
I can still smell her, the scent of hot cocoa
I never understood how she did that
It was all I could do not to lick her
To see if she tasted as good as she smelled.
I keep my eyes narrowed to protect from the smoke
Permeating the air, seeping into my clothes
Her ass fills my vision, small tattoo on one cheek
Begging me to smack it.
My hands tremble with the need to touch
But the bouncer is standing too near
I bite my lip with the effort to remember where we are..
She sits on my lap, I can feel the heat
The heat of her sex warming my legs
And she rubs my face in her cleavage.
I can see beyond her blue eyes
Yes I can.