Threads

So, this is what it’s like to truly miss you:
wanting nothing more than to wrap you in my arms
like I would wrap a present with a nice, tight red bow.

Your smooth, supple legs twining around mine,
our clothes lost from top to bottom—
the threads unraveling with each kiss
& each brush of each touch
renewing my faith in you.

You’re better than any demi-god,
because you’re a fully-fledged human:
flawed like my first clayey spin at the potter’s wheel,
fabled like the Geat Beowulf,
witty as Chaucer in his pilgrimage to Canterbury,
sharp in a black vest and red bowtie,
smart like Tesla,
strong as a beaker,
& sexy as ‘80s synth.

I can’t believe you’re actually mine:
clear, mountain stream blue eyes,
full rose-pink lips,
long, nimble fingers
that unbutton jeans as easily as laying the strokes of lines of code,
powerful thighs which wrap around my torso,
your beautiful cock to greet me
in the morning,
& wet my appetite
well after midnight,
& your warm, sweaty body to hold in my shining arms
once we’ve finished mussing the bedsheets.

M.B.B.
8/3/16
(edited 5/21/2020)

Note: This can be seen as a non-personal poem, for it is a fantasy in the speaker’s mind. The image used is from shutterstock.com