Wednesday, April 18, 2012

Little me

I’m never prepared for you,
Even when I think I am,
Finding your building, but forgetting
Which button to push,
A novice at my age
Stiff as a soldier marching up your stairs
Melting in your arms,
As to let my fingers take me places
The rest of me needs to go,
I feel so clumsy, so blunt
That bull in a shop of china
Whose any wrong move might bring
The whole house down
I love your look,
Especially the mouth and eyes
Undisguised by makeup
As if you’ve already made love
Or want to,
As you press up against a defenseless me
A me that aches inside and out
Feeling you through thin fabric
My chest against your breasts,
My lips against your
Feeling softness beneath my fingers
I have not felt before,
Me, wanting to be inside of you
Whatever way I can.
But I am never prepared for you
Even when I think I am
Lost in some haze,
Brain freezing over small details,
such as my hand clasping your breast.
I am sixteen again
Copping my first feel
Only it’s your face I see
Even in memory from back then
And it’s your lips I kiss
The old Who song reverberated in me
“Can you see the real me? Can ya?”
I do not feel real, only you do to me.
I feel like I am sculpting you
With each touch,
Creating the breasts under my fingers,
Creating space between your legs
Your low voice moving my hand, my touch,
Directing me to those places
That bring you the most pleasure,
While between my legs,
I rise and fall like the tides
Leaving a residue of salt in the wake of lust
It is all too much to keep track of
To be certain as to what part of you does what
when I touch you,
aching to climb inside of you
when I can only keep my attention focused
on one thing at a time
fingers finding deeper hollows,
holy ground, sacred spaces
to press and encircle,
drawing moans I hope will turn to screams,
me, a terrorist waiting for that final explosion
that ultimate scream,
that burst of joy I can’t take responsibility for
but like a boasting kid brag about in my head
feeling proud about
even though your voice guided my hand
wherever it went
and the little me inside the big me
grateful for the help,
aching to please you, aching to make sure
this all can happen again.

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