She said
“Paint me
with my own
smooth nectar
Dance the tip
of your tongue
along the length
of me
Create art
with my sex
to ripen my flower
and harvest my nectar”
And like a gentle rain
she started to drip
first slowly
then in gushes
Patiently waiting
For me to slide in
and devour her
And so
she waits
bent in submission
near a moonlit path
stars glistening
my fingers coaxing
her sea of dreams
stripped by my poetry
revealed in flashes
my intimate invasion
eliciting echos of darkness
as my heated tongue traveling
along her sacred valley
leading her to paradise
