Touch me here,
Between the folds of my petals,
Between the soft wrinkles of my sepal waiting and
willing,
Touch me here,
quietly licking the outer layers,
honey dripping,
wet and willing,
Close your eyes and breathe in
the night dusk,
Georgia O’Keefe sunset against my thighs,
Darkened and burnt,
And I am that petal unfolding,
waiting for
Your hands and tongue to trace the honey source,
drink in
nectar so raw and pure
sex pungent and dark,
lips upon stamen,
waiting for the final release.
