Cram Session

Imagine if you will the stillness
of a protected heart beating slowly
to a carefree rhythm,
surrounded by a nurturing love
charged with sustaining blissful feelings
allowed to sky rocket thru masculine
glass ceilings to the point of fleeing
inhabitations,
beyond falling in love at first sight moments,
afar from contemplating him washing
hair notions, cooking dinner,
doing the dishes wishes,
sudden kisses, startling, but confirming,
passionate, but discerning enough to
provide protection from both the world, himself,
to the point where the walls of this ten bedroom,
five bathroom, four car garage glass house
begins looking like a shanty home,
leaving lone ranger feelings tired of running,
within the confines of doubting minds no
longer wondering about reasons behind his
existence, leaving no witness to account
for crimes of passion committed each time
satin boy shorts fall, resting atop manly chest
prior to rushed dreaded actions,
reinforced by missing captions reading,
“Reluctantly, No Foreplay Here”,
never mind the traumatic tears or
pre-love making jeers,
hesitancy obviously gone unnoticed,
devouring intimate situations like locusts,
in a reducing fashion like division,
forcing back peddling into personal prisons,
similar to pit, pendulums,
leaving listening to only hearing,
“Baby, I’m cumming,” never,
“Baby, why are you legs numbing,”
or “Baby, I apologize for sweat messing up
your fresh perm from all the pumping,”
anything is better than nothing,
at least offer something to get the rivers flowing,
before going deep,
prior to the nakedness, before the snoring (his, not mine)…