When love making became more than an act.. You are poetic like oceans & skies & fire. More brown than me; like smoldering wood. My lips feel heavy. And the air, pregnant with our sex takes more effort to breath. It. Fills. Me. 'Til there is no more room left inside of me, for even me. And I am dizzy and not so clairvoyant in love. Maybe that dimple in your right cheek did make the conscience scrambled and the coochie easy but, I think I would have loved you regardless. And whether you entered me and My Temple on day three or thirty, it doesn't really matter because I had you on both occasions and loved you in between. And sometimes I wish that I could be inside of you. Why can't I be inside of you? I want to start a revolution. What is physical becomes metaphorical and then literal. Like you saw. You invaded. You conquered. Me. And I, like A beggar can only have whatever it is that you choose to spare. Is it wrong that I like It? Because I do.
- Sade' Miller
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