She was a monument.
Carved out in cold granite and marble,
I could have eaten off her flesh,
and did, on several occasions.

She was the afterwish,
the one that I could have
wrapped my fingers around, and in,
on most evenings, after tea and dinner.

She'd spit me from her mouth,
she with her childish antics
and lover-of-pink-ways.

But in bed,
she was a walking fantasy.
The epitome of temptation,
she, with her legs, and lips, and fragile hands.
Outwardly, she could have been
solid, but inside --

I stole her like stationary.
Carved out her womb,
a well-sketched inking --

she was forever warm.

08/20/2004

Author's Note: *GRUMBLES.* i had no idea how to pull this one off. so paul, you win. i finally found a topic i couldn't wrap my hand around. *GRIN*

complete topic: "An instantaneous wish: Make a dinner out of the ink from the pen of the best lover you've ever known."

Posted on 08/20/2004
Copyright © 2024 Rachelle Howe