Was In The Mood To Write

Like Honey

Golden like honey,

She shone in the sun.

Looked like hardened whiskey.

Almost the color of sap.

Holding my gaze long,

Unable to break the invisible

String that linked my eyes.

I had to watch her.

So thick with sweetness,

Her aroma drifted my way.

Had me looking around for

A beehive ready for harvest.

My lungs involuntarily inhaled

As if I had never experienced

The most intoxicating scent ‘til now.

Let me just breathe her in.

Soft and almost moldable

Her flesh gave way to my embrace.

Skin feeling like it had been

Covered and caressed with silk.

Drew my fingertips close

Like the allure of the curves

Of a brand new Bentley.

I wanted to hold her longer.

Liquid sugar on my mouth

As I kissed her cheek politely.

Closed my eyes to enhance the

Savory splendor that remained.

Had to run my tongue over

My lips to commit that

Flavor to memory.

I ached to lick her all over.

Her smile spoke a million

Silent words like a melody.

It sang not only to my heart,

But to all the cells in my body.

Bobbing my head as if I were

At a lounge and the sax crooned

 And calmed my inner turmoil.

I could listen to her quiet for hours.

But to know her was not to

See her,

Smell her,

Touch her,

Taste her,

Or hear her.

For that, I had to ask

The bees.

Copyright © 2012 NLG

On The Down Beat

The music comes on.

Just before dawn.

The clothes come off.

No need for the cloth.

You get turned on fast

Thinking about the past.

When he twists and turns you around

You let out one of those familiar sounds

Up on all fours, glad you just took a bath,

Your eyes roll as you remember your math

Noting each of the eight beats to a bar

Losing count as his tongue reaches far.

This part you don’t have to remember

’Cause he’s only ever gone ’til November.

That cut buddy that always has a pass

’Cause his handprints look just right on your ass.

You get that old thing back time and time again.

Throwin’ it back on him while he pushes it in.

Never having to remind him that you like it hard

He sips the milkshake that brings boys to the yard.

And it’s never mattered, the temperature of the heat,

He has always known to stroke on the down beat.

Copyright © 2012 NLG