dessert that I'd prepared
and well, I thought, with care
was not so well received by him
that night of our twelve hour date. . .
main course also not quite to his taste
and didn't matter! dessert he made for me
that night, that magic painted night
so very soft and hard and salt and sweet
so silk-smooth, so surprising, and yet. . . familiar too
that sweet was well received indeed
shared pleasures of our flesh
straightforward ease of it
the gentleness, the sudden strength
calm revelation of his nakedness
inside my eager unskilled mouth
his lovely clever hands so swift
beneath my black boned bra
around my yearning hips
down deep between my thighs, within!
then, somehow, both flown way up high
so very high, pulled up sudden
yanking hard enough on my long hair
to make me (very slightly) scream
all that loving, all that calm surprise
all of dreamshape that —
every moment pleasure, joy, reprieve
just have not felt this way
just have not known such things
for very (darkly sadly) long
turns out that I still like dessert
