Of Nearly Perfect Scientists And Their Otherworldly Boyfriends

I want to feel you

writhing below me.

Your inky black tentacles

squirming against me,

trying to grip to something

to keep you grounded.

Allow me to embrace you,

to slip inside you

and stay a while.

You're warm,

so warm,

and it's beautiful,

you're beautiful,

so perfectly imperfect.

You moan into my mouth,

I can feel the vibrations

on my lips.

I love the way you taste,

I love the way you sound,

I love the way you feel

and the way you make me feel.

I love you.