Sexy Erotic Poetry
"I Don't Want Your Love," a sensual poem by Ezra Stead
Diane, Paris, 1993 by Dahmane
I don’t want your love for tax purposes.
I don’t want your love bearing the twin corpses of tradition
and overpopulation in its arms like dusty wedding garments.
I don’t want your love steeped in the bitter waters of jealousy,
dripping self-righteous rage in my eyes when I look astray
and no, I don’t want you to make my bed.
I want you to help me mess it up.
I want your love raw and bleeding, pulsating, delirious.
I want your love to rip through your body like electricity,
your back arching spasmodically with the force of its current,
your frame barely able to contain it all.
I want your love sevenfold:
once for each of my senses and twice more to make sure
it takes its rightful place among the Great Wonders of the World.
I want your love dripping from my beard when I come up for air,
and I resent the air. I resent the fact that I need it
when all I want is to plunge back into the Great Divide.
I am facing the place we came from.
I want your love to bloom like a rose,
and I fully expect your thorns to mark my back.
I’ll find your most ticklish spot and slap it
while I bite your second most ticklish spot.
I’ll overload your senses,
caressing your every part with mine
until I’m like ten lovers.
Tonight I’ll make you squirt farther than I can.
Tonight I want your love sweating and panting,
collapsing, then napping in that perfect moment
before conversation becomes relevant again.
We have pushed each other’s bodies to the breaking point
and kept each other safe.
It feels like our lives were in each other’s hands.
Copyright November 2011, Ezra Stead.
Published with permission from author on OystersandChocolate.com. Copying or reprinting this work in part or in whole without permission is illegal.