You're a Good Man
Prying through my sheets for my dried out pen,
I know that familiar tingle in my spine.
My words are vibrating and crawling
up the walls of my inner being
to molt and mix in a smooth
butter persuasion.
I'm frantic and searching
for an easier way to write,
but the molten mess
back tracks and a small
breeze of fear holds my chin.
And I am afraid to face anything anymore
for the smallest moment.
Slowly graze her temple
down to the hallow of her cheeks
and please feel the human warmth
raising to the surface,
the instant reaction to your peace offering,
her true blush.
Creating a ripe blend across
the apples on opposite
Beckoning for a firm bite
with a jagged hold.
You can write verses and song
with a single passion for her lips and waist.
Her blue eyelids closed while she dances.
And you linger circumventing her moving shadow.
Your mouth and hands continue to sing
by verse by verse.
You are a good man.