My Inner Bukowski

You bring out that side of me that isn’t socially acceptable.

Lecherous, licentious and debauched.

It’s always been there but when I watch you dress I think,

tonight you’re a creature that was made to fuck.

Your eyeliner a bullhorn for that fuck me stare.

Perfume exuding your fuck me scent.

You spend an hour perfecting that fuck me hair,

with those fuck me heels I’m sure I won’t relent.

I’d lose my breath between your legs

or your other, higher pair of lips.

Scream for me

let it out and make the windows shake.

When it’s done we’ll lie naked among the sheets.

The breeze cooling our panting chests.

My hand squeezing your naked thigh,

with your leg draped across mine.

We’ll sleep like that and do it again in a few hours,

or maybe we can wait until morning.

But right now you’re teasing my hunger

and my lips need to be fed.