Go home to the comfort of your bed

Where the wrinkles get created by you and her

And while in her arms tell me your desires

Hands on her, exploring, creating heat that

sets me on fire;

In ungodly hours, sometimes, come to me

With her perfume, her rouge,

Claiming want with the speak of your body,

Imprisoning me under for a journey I long for

All mine, all willing,

All done before


Return then to whence you came

To whom daylight wills

Leaving me with sleeping pills


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s