You're a Good Man

Prying through my sheets for my dried out pen,

I know that familiar tingle in my spine.

My words are vibrating and crawling

up the walls of my inner being

to molt and mix in a smooth

butter persuasion.

I'm frantic and searching

for an easier way to write,

but the molten mess

back tracks and a small

breeze of fear holds my chin.

And I am afraid to face anything anymore

for the smallest moment.

Slowly graze her temple

down to the hallow of her cheeks

and please feel the human warmth

raising to the surface,

the instant reaction to your peace offering,

her true blush.

Creating a ripe blend across

the apples on opposite 

Beckoning for a firm bite

with a jagged hold.

You can write verses and song

with a single passion for her lips and waist.

Her blue eyelids closed while she dances.

And you linger circumventing her moving shadow.

Your mouth and hands continue to sing

by verse by verse.

You are a good man.