Musings by The Poet Loriet
Sense-Satiate
I'm hungry, baby.
It's been too long
since I tasted your sweat,
flesh, tongue, desire.
I'm thirsty, baby.
My eyes want to drink
a cool, tall glass of you,
your milky white skin,
dark hair, green eyes.
My skin burns, baby.
It's flushed,
waiting for your fingers
to explore.
Ignite my passions.
Soothe my libido.
I want to inhale, baby.
I want the odor
of our sweet lovemaking
to perfume
my cotton slumber,
make me toss and turn
against you...
because this time,
I won't find your pillow
barren.
I want to hear you, baby...
your pleasure, your
whispered tender words,
and even your satisfied snoring
as you lay wrapped in my love.
Stay.
We'll greet the sunrise
in each others arms.
I don't want
to let you go home...
because, honey,
you're already there.
Lori Beal
It's been too long
since I tasted your sweat,
flesh, tongue, desire.
I'm thirsty, baby.
My eyes want to drink
a cool, tall glass of you,
your milky white skin,
dark hair, green eyes.
My skin burns, baby.
It's flushed,
waiting for your fingers
to explore.
Ignite my passions.
Soothe my libido.
I want to inhale, baby.
I want the odor
of our sweet lovemaking
to perfume
my cotton slumber,
make me toss and turn
against you...
because this time,
I won't find your pillow
barren.
I want to hear you, baby...
your pleasure, your
whispered tender words,
and even your satisfied snoring
as you lay wrapped in my love.
Stay.
We'll greet the sunrise
in each others arms.
I don't want
to let you go home...
because, honey,
you're already there.
Lori Beal
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Sense-Satiate
Sense-Satiate
