Saturday, May 16, 2009

Some are lovers
hiding 'neath covers,
while others fight,
make up at night.

I love to love
him backward

I love to yearn,
to be shot down,
the challenge,
high noon sun,
is where it's fun.

Find ways to rise,
each time
a higher climb,
new skills, improved,
not past my prime.

A learned whore
can be pleased more
often than
scared virgins,
prudish bores.

A whore for words
as men's swords
fall rusted to floors
the minds worth more
than ever before.

Play with me,
sing to me,
hide in every corner.
I will not leave
until he asks me.

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