Long gone are the days you’d
table pros and cons before
they’d succinctly unwrap you,
have your legs wrapped around
their waist as they pounded you on
that table, whispering along to its
sensual tableau.
Unwrapping sex on these streets is as
simple as peeling off the bananas coat:
hold firm, lazily touch, peel and it’s served.
Ready are we to get bare and
scratch that itch that we have
ditched ideals of having emotions
in the mix.
Oh emotions, the fluid between heart
and body, are a cringe.
Steamy notions and sweaty motions
is all some think. Liberties, yes.
Yet we still are caged, barring
those desires wanting more
than a nude body, sexy sighs along
with them sweety thighs.
We hunger, we thirst then we thrust
trusting we’d leave sated but we
live constantly craving a being to lay
our thoughts bare with. We yearn for that
play that goes beyond stripping clothes
but helps unpack layers hiding the truth
cum beauty we are. We ache to share that
hearty space pounding endlessly.
Pleasure minus fear plus faith
times love without measure equaling a…
…holy and wholly communion we hope it’d be.
Our equation, though, with its imbalances
topples over dragging us down too
as our hearts…
Our hearts pounds for more
so why purchase bare minimum?
Who swiped left and left us
chasing shadows hoping they’d
bare flesh? Is this what brokenness
looks like? Or hopelessness?
What could be our saving grace?
Or better yet, whom?
We want more, sex and then some
more from the soul that shares our
body, so why do we settle for less?
Celebrating our liberties we say?
Yes, but…
Why are we the hit, turn, hit it
some more and then run Gen?
Easy to cum easy to go huh?
Empress of Bookingham 