Poetry at Work and Play

With the stroke of a brushMy mind draws her near.First, the image is blurryThen, it all becomes clear.Today her eyes are blueTo suit my Wednesday mood.Her hair is blonde and curly;Hump day has an attitude.She files her nails, looking bored,Dressed only in black lingerie.Stockings and garters to matchSuch a sexy menagerie.I look Ankara Escort at my files, feeling boredWork is tedious, at best.Her presence on the bed is disturbingIt's time that I take some rest."What's on?" I ask, sighing deeply"You. If you're lucky," she repliesWithout Sincan Escort hesitation, I join her"What's your name?" I ask, feeling wise"Whatever you like," she says dryly"Let's just fuck, okay?" she insists"Okay," I reply, "I know the score."Tying the rope around Etlik Escort her wristsShe lies face down, sobbing gentlyAs I explore her body with my hands.Lingering on her breasts and buttocksFingers heading toward the wetlands.Her g-spot is sensitive, I know thisI've stroked her many times before.Feeling the juices of her eagerness,Declaring, "You're merely a whore!""You're merely a poet!" she swears back"At least, I have a purpose.""To fill your head with carnal desires,""Whereas you, your words are just surplus."Parting her legs and slipping inside herI ask, "Is this poetry you feel?""When you fill me up and fuck me this way,""Your lyrics are sublimely surreal!"