Booty call

Booty call

 

I’m his fantasy , his desire.

As we lay,

Till after dark.

He talks ,

Ghosts of his past and of his present

Fool around in shadows on the wall.

 

He calls me his wildflower

With kisses intentional and intense

With fingers soft and slow,

Stirring patterns of sensations on my skin,

 

I don’t talk and I don’t play

Why do I push him away?

 

Because I know

This is only fantasy.  This is only desire .