The way my mind works.
I had a poem, but the autocorrect Freudian slipped poem into porn. I guess that’s the true poem, I attempt to keep you organized with rhyme, tempo, alliteration and every English language skill I’ve learned in school. But some how in my mind I end up on my knees face kissing your tummy damn you are alluring, meticulous, yummy. Words stop forming because blood stop flowing to my brain. Images flood my mind. Legs, toes, kissed held sucked. Mind replaying an old late night conversation, body enjoying the adrenaline and stimulation at the thought of your body’s exploration. I pause in a moment of exhalation. Well it just a moment of a real experience in thinking about you.