Spot On

I felt his words dig into the crevices of my mind,

Planting little seeds of lustful integrities

Which would sprout into full blown ideologies

Fruit, for his picking

Once the sweet drenched warmth of him covered it

And when fully set down

Dug into my folds, the sweetest thing

Would be a spot, bright

Existing forever in my spherical shape

Filling the glorious pool with his self – being

And I would welcome it

And welcome it…

 

Feb. 9, 2009

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