Blah blah, poetry. Blah blah, love.

Erotic eroticisms
It's in the sighs between the lines
and the loving way your fingers
tap
tap
the keys
and coax the beauty out of similes
that are way past their prime

I tell myself that I don't know how to love you
and that these are just scars on the screen
of my ever so fucked up life
But when you caress those letters
the crushing cresendo
and the climax of your words
read me like a sitcky note

But really, it's all semantics
I just want you to know that each time you hit that spacebar
I'm slipping in between your thoughts

And I'm tasting your soul.