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Whispers of Desire
A Poem of Longing and Lust
Whispers of Desire
I forgot my helmet, dear Asha, over at your place, can I come by to pick it up and meanwhile I’ll praise your flesh, get body on body until we both collapse?
I try to be that person who you might love, someone you don’t just swap out for another person when you get tired of them.
You’re very democratic about your lovers, and that makes me feel like a nun in comparison.
I will lay siege to you in my own way though, the manufacturer made me for sex and more sex.
This is no radical idea, it’s as old as the chimes of the church.
I make no omission when I tell you about my other past lovers, but you keep it more open in the sense that you lead all of yours down your path with the practice of a lifetime.
Call it your chest or bosom, I have no preference, nor do I discriminate between any ethnic group, I just try to write about beauty with a longing for you that only a small percent of people understand.
I’d like to be a member of your club, and I’d take care not to overwhelm you, but you deserve to be on the cover of any magazine you wish.
I took the train tonight and there was this graphic portrayal of some lovers’ fling. It…
