Would it help if I told you your lips (friendly as they are to the poet)
make me st-st-stutter on paper?
Or should I suggest that Heaven be paved with pictures of your eyes instead of gold?

Perhaps a kiss on the small of your back?
A kiss that takes slow steps to find the sweetest spot
of flesh on the back of your neck.

You'd find my hands have ten close friends that might push themselves to places forbidden from most men.
All to make you smile, to shorten your breath.
It's hard to conjure dreams much better than that.

I'd steal your feet from under you,
handcuff each limb twice.
My mind gives me a helpful hint,
Would you prefer candle wax...or ice?

I'd pull your hair, drag my nails downs your spine,
p u s h the pleasure out your mouth, just to hear your
brandy brushed voice.

My thoughts are bright light in an empty white room.
You can't escape.
They surround you.

...Would you like to fall in love tonight?
I have a palace just your size.
It exists underneath my covers,
Where you'd be named queen.

Lists of wants await your words.
I'll shower you with fantasy.
Zig-zag's are unnessacary I'll b-line to the point.
Tonight is your night.
Anything you want.
Whatever you enjoy.

A poem a day with the title your name,
can make a man so anxious.
I'm craving you, and I've thought this through.
When we meet, I'll start with a kiss.

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