he didn't look like much
bookish, a bit nerdy
he'd rake his hands
through his hair
that always needed cutting
disheveling it endearingly
he didn't talk a lot
but when he did
he deserved full and undivided attention
with just a touch of Irish
smooth and buttery
words slid out of him
arranged in the most ingenious
and most exquisite arrangements
they had life
and passion
they were alive and flirted with me
teased and tickled my brain
synapses warm then start to spark
his ideals and passion thrust into my open mind
neurons blaze trails of desire
as i hang on his every word
lusting for more of his voice
if he talks just a bit longer
i'm going to cum poetry

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