Your hands placed on my chest,
all digits spread across breasts.
Feel my heartbeat skip at the sensation,
of your finger’s grip causing palpitations.
The emancipation proclamation,
of an emotional connection.
Because our past stories are wiped clean,
like your internet search history.
A clean slate, to make new memories without debate.
Only holding on to what makes us shiver and quake,
I see you’re hesitant to get on-top of me.
So hear this plea, “TEACH me something, anything.”
I yearn for these ears to burn,
by the drowning drone of your echoing moans.
So, dismiss the rudeness of my Australian Kiss,
that makes you flounder, from these smooches down under.
Sorry, pardon me for speaking too directly.
It’s just, that….
You’re doing something to me. I can’t explain it.
Should I hate this?