Your beauty makes me confuse my fantasies with reality,
Sometimes it feels like I live both.
You’re my kryptonite,
The only time my Clark Kent and superman coexist.
Belt buckle clinging onto the cold floor,
Like the sound of battle drums,
Napoleon must win!
We discard off our faces,
The floor is littered with details,
Like in a rush,
Our hearts are impatient,
Our lips starved of discipline.
I hold up your body,
Like I’m drinking from your lips,
Seasoned with desire,
A pronounced taste of love.
Like a bottle of wine left to be for years,
Gracing my throat as it slithers down in awesomeness,
Like the taste of your lips,
Served hot by your body.
Clenching fists and cracking toes.
Your legs ache,
Butterflies in your stomach,
and I’m swallowing them when you moan softly into my ear.
Digging deeper into my back with your nails,
Pain to pleasure,
The latter I can’t measure.
I want to squeeze you in my arms,
Open my mouth wide open,
Let you drip in,
Drop by drop.
Pretend to be quenching my thirst,
Feed from your hands,
Their divine touch.
Holding me down to the worship of your body.