Hey Look, A Poem!
So, I write poems. I write them a whole lot more often than I write stories, and in my opinion they're a lot better than the stories. I write like most spoken word artists, though I don't consider myself to be one. Actually, I don't consider myself to be a poet. I just have something to say every now and again.
Anywho, I'm posting this here because I know I'll get honest feedback. I don't trust my friends, because to them I am awesome in all things written. This I know is not true, so I turn to you, fellow Historians. Anywho, this is the most "adult" poem I've ever written, brought about due to the adult feelings mi amour caused.
You're beautiful he said during late night hours/
hours deemed ungodly by men, when only God has any business being up so late.
You're beautiful he repeated,
as I lowered my eyes and deeply blushing face because I knew not what to say to his bold accusation.
As I sat there clothed only in my emotions
He proceeded to strip me bare,
with words until he could no longer get the hues right.
I sat there as he compared my skin to the finest bittersweet chocolate/
pausing long enough to ponder if my eyes were comparable to sunrise...
Word after word left me
with lips parted and plumped with anticipation.
Over and over he caressed me with sweet obscenities until I
came from logophilic ecstasy.