It Wasn't Poem by Mumu Da Poet

The lips were intimately before we kiss,
With all the French kisses all over,
Her breast kept on inviting my hands,
Her curvy body drowned my thoughts deeper in the sheets on love.

She smelled like a yellow rose on a sunny day,
Her lower lip dialating to excuse words out of her mouth,
She kept on feeding me love words while I was dining on the table of sex thoughts,
Distracting my mind from all the promises she sow into my heart.
I knew I will break her heart, so I didn't want to let the promises germinate onto my skin.

Her scent so appetizing,
Long curly hairs that rested on her sculptures,
Scarlet lips that spoke to my amusement,
She kept on taking photos of us with her lenses,
Letting the island in me to throb profusely,

Fervently I was reciting prayers in silent voices,
Desiring deeply to unleash the cotton that covered her art,
My mind was a binocular,
Scanning every inch of her body like a mathematician calculating angles.

Deafening silence came,
She froze on the touch of my lips resting against her pointing nipple,
She was wild in heart but shy to her simplicity,

Words were cemented on her throat as my hands began to track the field of her art,
Racing my index finger all over her,

She would softly truncate words,
Breaking them according to their syllables.