Let Me Get Romantic
Let me get r o m a n t i c, cross my legs,
pucker my lips, slip into your shadow.
You say, “It’s a bit hot in here,” as I draw near.
You're pulling at your collar, releasing your tie.
My scarf, silkily and seamlessly, slides
onto the parquet floor, next to your shoes,
kicked off. My s t i l e t o s join yours
on the ballroom floor. They’re ruby red.
We are not ready for bed, Mon amour.
For now, we are in this for kicks. High
riding our stallions through the m e a d o w.
Enjoying our tricks and treats together.
Our wet skin, pearlescent, in the moonlight,
swimming with p l e a s u r e in the dark.
We get closer and closer to the t r u t h
of who she is; who he is; we’re in the depths.
The mistletoe overhead reveals a mystery.
You’d think it is a k i s s, but it is a knee.
The d i a m o n d brilliance of cerise cheeks,
and a “yes, oh yes,” and yes, comes the kiss.
Let me get r o m a n t i c, in snow of negligee,
looser lips, and a slip b e t w e e n the sheets.
It’s never been h o t t e r as you draw near.
It’s time we know no bounds, my love.
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