Tuesday, 23 July 2013

Scent of a woman

I miss women,
the feel of their skin,
I miss even their wet snotty day,
when everything is wrong, and you're the one to pay,
there is a beauty in their nervousness as it starts,
the initial indecision, the hiding of the hearts,
I miss their lips, so tasty and blooming,
their stances and dances, the way they be moving,
and the curve of their waist, always familiar and homely,
their bosom like a great fire in a chimney smoldering,
they are wild in their own way, erotic,
a brief solace from the world, the psychotic.
A scent clings to them that opens my heart,
I thirst for their nectar, waiting to start,
And their thighs shine like moon, satin to touch,
and warm as their eyes, nails waiting to clutch.
Their voice also tempts, like flute they sing to me,
My ladies, when breathless they, happiness comes to me,
I miss women mine,
intoxicating like wine,
and just as sweet to taste.