PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

her tongue isn't sleek and long

it is short and thick



she was so young at the time and we

kissed for hours

she was as good as she could be



when she kissed me

--- which she eventually learned to do --

her tongue made its presence know



it didn't explored, but did recognizance



i exhausted her with temptation

she exhausted herself with nerves

always wanting to be better

and she wanted to be better

she wanted to please me



her sex was something for me to think about

i wondered always, if it was her or her innocence

that was drawing me in like the sirens of guilt



she was a rendezvous on the living room floor

the adventure of two months of waiting

moments in random buildings

looking at the horizon and messing against her

and the waiting of her wanting me more



an endeavor of beer and kissing her breasts

with a cotton shirt twisted away

desire blossoming in the spring of youth

and knowing how a hunger fermented

as she drove away



when she was naked, she presented a wonderful gift



we were in college and

i would e-mail her from one building

to meet me in the stair wells so i could

imprint the measurement of her tongue that

still beckons like the enchantress

of all guilty pleasures