Words are exchanged,
Temperatures rise,
Civility reigns,
A veiled disguise,
Behind which each,
Simmers and burns,
One thinks the other,
Just never learns,
On a long ride home,
Tensions grow higher,
They burst through the door,
Tempers on fire,
Their passions run high,
Their anger still grows,
The blink of an eye,
They’re ripping off clothes,
They’re down on the floor,
Flesh steaming hot,
Giving each other,
All that they’ve got,
Like beasts they ride hard,
In a coiled embrace,
The argument melted,
Not even a trace.

Darling, darling…

So sip so sweetly at my nectar,
Darling, darling, from down there.
And in return I’ll sip your honey,
Darling, darling, you know where.
I’ve got that little space to fill,
So darling, darling fill it up.
All the way up with your passion.
Darling, darling, to the top.
Love me, sweetly, gently, roughly.
Darling, darling, please don’t stop.
Give it, give it, give it to me.


Let me get on top.

(This is my poetry potluck piece. This week’s theme is “Passionate Nights of Love.” Methinks a few babies will be made this week.)