I  fantasize. Slipping my tongue between her thoughts,

And with strong hands, massaging her humor into a soft mound of flesh that

I can squeeze in the center of my imaginary palm.

I need to reflect the harshness of her gaze in my own movements,

Coiling tight around her muscles, both of us holding our breath,

Unsure of how we each define “mercy.”

I need to taste her troubles.  I dream of stripping her ripened fears, with each lick.

I want every part of her in my mouth. And I am unashamed.

One thought on “SEÑOR VIVORA

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