If I Could be a Hustler...

Meet me
In the shower.
Tonight.
If a look can say it all
Then your eyes wash me with sonnets.
Unearthed magic that drips
From beautiful irises
Such that remind me of dreams
And sunrises..
My skin is pressed against cool tile
As words cascade down my curves..
The pockets of steam billow up
Past the eyelashes you laced in haiku last night..
They flutter with residual shyness.
Even as water rinses down the drain,
The free writing from your fingertips
Remains in tattooed swirls
Around my thighs.

I couldn’t wash this love off
If I tried…
And I
Would never.

Punctuation-pierced nipples
Hang on every inch of stanza..
A blended masterpiece..
I become an abstract representation
Of a one-of-a-kind work of art..
My favorite feature
Whispering poetry into the mood and
Letting it drip down my neck,
Between my breasts like a cavern,
Continuing to navel life line..
And, well…
Your words always find their way
Inside me.