Maestro

Last winter I refilled my blackened quill with a dose of your sensual sonnets, allowing your soothing voice to be the maestro~ reawakening a cathartic infatuation, whilst drunk on symphonies that you've orchestrated, as throbbing thirst instills tantalizing tercets into my veins, and I submissively let every ounce of my skin to be stroked by your titillating tongue, tracing the trails of goosebumps that you've ignited, leaving me intoxicated in your mellifluous world of poetic pulses, where your honey-dipped fingers strum upon the script of my love-struck soul… Yet there is something about the writings on your untold rivers, never revealed, forever lost in the silence of suppression… I will someday kiss you into written poetry, when I take a breath to climax as couplets intertwined. So place me on your empty canvas of nocturnal stanzas, paint me with tender rhymes, flowing like fluorescent ink, bleeding from your aesthetic baton, so effortlessly. ..