I was empty when you weren’t around.
I felt like I was dying inside,
trying to hear the sounds
of your vibrant and penetrating voice,
sitting on the living room sofa
by the phone waiting on you to call.
I was longing to be with you,
to chill in your fly whip,
vibe to the slow jams playing on the radio
as I relaxed my head
on your handsome, well-fleshed thighs.
I stared at you puff on a cigar,
blowing the thick smoke
in the warm and wonderful air,
rubbing your dexterous, long fingers
through my rich, wavy hair,
telling me that I was yours,
only yours, that no one would ever
come between you and me,
that we were king and queen,
I was lost in your hot
and amazingly bright dimension,
feeling your fabulously fine Polo shirt,
inhaling your **** and masculine fragrance,
feeling as if I could drown in you
and never come back up for air.