Her name lingers at the tip of my tongue,
where I wish her body would often reside.
She is the canvas I ache to claim,
with a signature only my tongue could provide.
Her eyes meet mine—
burying their radiance deep in my soul—
and I wait…
for a confession of love
that fuses two halves into something whole.
I pray the courts would find her guilty,
and sentence her to a lifetime with me—
a willing prisoner of my PHYSICAL TOUCH,
begging forever to never be free.
I promise to steal her breath each day
with WORDS THAT AFFIRM, not just impress,
to give her my QUALITY TIME, unmeasured and pure,
a love fueled by more than mere tenderness.
She is so perfect no GIFT could compare,
yet still I GIVE, with pride and delight—
her devoted fantasist, endlessly hers,
writing our dreams into life each night.
I’ll SERVE her heart in all that I do,
because in my world, she’s divine—
and I still dream each day begins
with that first whispered fantasy… mine.
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Author:
Bragee (
Offline) - Published: April 5th, 2026 08:38
- Category: Love
- Views: 12

Offline)
Comments3
A poetic expression of a prisoner of love. Desire possessed expressed in its most sensual form flows from these lines. Obsessed with a smitten passion it flows onward. Sexual and powerful it calls for fulfillment. Why is the tongue such a sensual tool? It senses touch and tastes the only organ that has two senses. It is the entryway to our innards a most vulnerable spot. It takes in our vitality and life force our very food. It helps form the words of our communication of love itself. A most sensual poem.
Raw, relentless desire fused with tenderness—grit and devotion collide here.
That love is obviously so strong Bragee, I hope it can be there for both of you.
Andy
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