Saturday, April 16, 2011

30/16: Fifty Ways

There are fifty ways I can touch you. 
My tongue has a word for each way.  

It speaks softly in the dead of the night, when it 
wants to tell you secret. When I'm too proud to say 
I'm sorry, or you were right. Or don't have the strength 
to say promise me this was the last time.  

Firmly, it speaks from the very core of my being, Those 
times when I'm not kidding around, I'll say 
'Dude you messed with the wrong chick here, 
you best be stopping this bullshit. And now.'   

Ravenous, I will speak from my deepest, most 
shameful desire. I will ache the ache of a week's
hunger, I will speak incorrigibly and without poise. 
In clumsy haste, when there's no way I can wait anymore.  

Innocently and with great care, I will ask, 
'let me  touch you.'  When I don't want  to tarnish 
your beauty.  When I worry my myriad flaws and my 
missing pieces will ruin your perfect state of bliss.  

Let me read you with my palm, let me 
memorize  your face. There is a world I can know 
from just touching you. Let my skin feel the skin of you, 
let  the stories our skins hold find release.  

And even when I am peckish, give me just a taste  
of you, a whole meal of you might be more than  
I can handle. With fingers, tongue and lips let me  
sample  you, just a dose will be all that I need.  

I know fifty ways I can touch you, 
I have a word for every single one.

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