the language of love
i called her “A Love Poet”
but she called it “the Language of Love”
and it spoke to me
stroked me in that place
that bore the face of blissful thoughts
within the realm of my imaginings
exposing my secrets
to the world
and i imagined
all sorts of things
and it is now beginning
to come to the penning
onto the pad
that lies before me
in her lines
she captured my mind
and my passions
in her descriptive expressions
so here i am
at confession
for
Father i have sinned
my thoughts
began that dance
upon my loins
awakening my blood
elevating it’s temperature
beyond boiling
and i was toiling
with the possibilities
of how
just how was i going to handle this
this onset of need
and my quest for the bliss
she evoked
in her syllabic presentation
it was more than infatuation
at this stage of the game
game
it is not a game any more
for she has somehow
opened that door
and the Devil in me was loose
dreaming of engagement
all this from some Poetry
POETRY ?
yes Poetry
which is why
i called her a Love Poet
for i love what she does to me
but
she called it simply
“the language of love”
© 12 July 2011 : William S. Peters, Sr.
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