Writer’s Serenade

I want to make love to you with words,
Get down and grease you up in dirty verbs.
Talk about ‘freak’ but haven’t you heard,
This is the new sex darling, not so absurd.

Let me take you to places only I can imagine,
We can live there in decent/indecent fashion.
Buckle those head belts, seats securely fastened,
This love cannot be severed or rationed.

Let me sentence you, to sentences of English lust,
Don’t believe that skin, but in the soul, we must.
Wipe off that vanilla scent of redly golden rust,
Besides truly in the inner and outer who do we trust?

Paragraphs laid out in sweet dark temptation,
Take my hand, equal now, no more trepidation.
My prowess is my head, a nasty beautiful reputation,
Don’t try to reason now, lost in bliss, no equalization.

Follow along through the once created rabbit hole,
Don’t you see your hidden prominent godly role?
If I put you in words, you’re my heart and my soul,
Now tell me sweetly, do you really wanna go?
Thomas Spychalski

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