For Me Poem by Hershe Moore

Traveling the curves in my waist,
I paved the road he takes with honey,
letting his fingers trace their way upon two ripe melons,
He's in place...
Embraced are my thighs around this vessel, his waist...
I could nestle in his manly bossom for a season...
He's the reason
there are miles between my thighs.
He can move these mountains!
Heavy breathing,
body heaving from the entrance of your moon into my sunny afternoon.
Rise to the occassion and consume my womb
In tune we'll move,
The melody from the box spring sings your praises,
I can taste it!
Sweet and sticky right down to the bone as he roams among my well,
It overflows yet he captures every drop.
Drip unto me
Let's become together so that he may be you,
as in the one for she,
which is I making he the one for she which is me