Teach me
to sweep you off your feet,
so that I
can make my own
wildest dreams come true.
When I close my eyes,
when I strip it all away,
all I see
is you.
And your black and blue
jean wardrobe
and boxer-briefs
tangled in my sheets.
Muscles tense
as I touch your thighs.
And I’ve never been
very good
at writing
sexy things.
But your body
seems to sneak
into me,
I mean,
into my poetry.


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