Not A Dear John Letter Poem by Sunday Smith

It was a warm summer day when the words of a familiar sexy voice turned from friendship to inquisitiveness. Uncertainty, mystery, and excitement instantly began filling the air. A simple hmmm spawned a whirlwind of words heavy with innuendo and predictions that piqued interest. Affection and an uncertain love showed itself in a warm sunny place filled with palm trees.

The newfound interactions were filled with passion, wide eyes, and amazement. Each and every occasion brought a new sensation, a new memory, a vision to rewind later. These two people embarked on a journey unlike any experience....one people would be jealous of. Presumably a once in a lifetime relationship. The days weeks and months were filled with sweet exchanges in a hidden world. Memories and visions that only needed to be described in several descriptors.....a lady in the bush watering flowers, stars in the sky above the crashing waves, hands interlaced on the boardwalk, an afternoon filled with sushi, sake, and sex, a belly drenched in sweat, grilling steaks and sharing conversation while a warm house cools down, warm baths unwinding from the day, a blue couch with rain falling against the window, a sensual evening in a sandy dune with the stars above, a red couch on a spring day when they ran away, mischievous interludes with others around, desolate roads to steal kisses, dark fields and nursing homes, a homemade barbecue to grill shrimp, and words about the beauty of the snow that they have yet to exchange a kiss under.

This boy is just so many things to the girl. He is the main character in the fairytale storybooks that morphs into the boy next door in the real world. The one that can only be described as the one that shows his vulnerability and need for love and affection, the one that is so giving and will do anything for the girl. He is the one that will call you his princess. He remembers things she says that one would only expect a best girlfriend to remember.

This boy is mine. He is so sexy as I run my fingers down his chest. I feel his tenderness when he looks down into my eyes, when his words come through the phone or his lips, when he holds my hand. His sexiness when he slowly moves within me drives me crazy wanting more. The physical connection can only be described as the strength and airtight qualities of legos.

I am crazy for him, his sweetness, his gestures of love, his determined effort to make a situation right so passion can be shared again. He reminds of me what one would call a fickle cat, misunderstood and truly only wanting to be loved. To love him is to receive endless love in exchange.

They are many things to each other. Soul mates, best friends, playmates, future shuffleboard players, sounding boards. The stars aligned the night of a dream so two people already so connected could discover the love and adoration previously unknown.