The Boudoir

PART I: THE BOUDOIR

With thick and wavy lustrous hair -

Neatly conditioned and combed -

Flowing below her supple shoulders,

She stands with one hand into the hairs;

And her thick lips partly open allowing

The gaze of her eyes steal my sight,

As well as those long eyelashes beckon

Her beholder to admire your beauty.

The other hand - enriched with

A delicate golden beaded bracelet -

Is placed elegantly on her hip -

Embellished by black lace panties

Outlining her curvaceous trunk

Which is effortlessly protruded and

Magnified by the sensual parting

Of her plump legs adorned by

Black stockings tapering from

Those luscious thighs till the end

Of shiny and pointed black heels.

Her even toned fair skin is perfectly

Contrasted by a pearl necklace and

A french-cut bra - velvet in deep black -

Exhibit a cleavage so deep that

Her perfectly round breasts might

Even wobble out of their warm places.

As I imagine laying my kisses on her,

A twinkling stone ornamented in

Her navel catches my hungry eyes

Which is craving for attention

Because no part of your body is

As graceful as your adorable face.

On a day that is at the cusp of midnight,

This is how I am invited to her boudoir

To make love with her for life.

There, the light of the moon reflects

Against the azure sky filled with stars

Making you glow in silvery blue.

I come behind you and gently grasp

Her thighs and while caressing them,

I hear a soft moan between her whispers.

April 4, 2020

PART II: DEJA VU

I hated it when my eyes opened

To the harsh reality I was in.

That it was only a made-up dream

For my mind wanted to escape

And dwell into my sensual desires

Making me watch all that is you

With such fantastic lucidity that

These words do not even come close

In describing the angelic beauty

Bestowed upon you for eternity.

I have realized with utmost regret

That it is merely a glimpse of

What I saw and painted these words

A glimpse of what I could recall

From my half remembered dream.

Even though you are dwelling beyond

The measures of space and time,

I have not been unfortunate after all:

It is because of you that I am writing

These songs describing my fantasies

About your charisma and divine persona.

Wait a minute! What's this?

This is not a dream; or, is it?

What do I feel in my hands?

I sense my fingers gliding through hair.

Then they are feeling the shoulders

And they are sliding down the curve

Of a torso I could never be mistaken.

I feel your back against my chest

And my nipples go hard with arousal.

Then my hands are guided by yours

To wrap them tight around you.

For the vibe to sink in, you throw

A raunchy giggle to make me forget

The blindness I am blessed with.

Then I begin the journey with

A foreplay by pulling you toward me

To make you feel how hard I am

Then I bend down and kiss

Your voluptuous hips and lick

Your magnificent butt by slowly

Stripping the laced black tanga.

We continue our excursion of

Sensual pleasures until there is a

Sweet satisfactory moan from you

Seeking absolution from dreaded isolation.

April 7, 2020