Sunday, August 23, 2009

You came to my bed in the middle of the night

You came to my bed in the middle of the night.
You drove down my street in your silent green car and
You opened my door in the middle of the night.

You unlocked my door in the middle of the night.
You unlocked my door with the purple-capped key and
You strode down the hall in the middle of the night.

You came to my bed in the middle of the night.
You came to my bed and you pulled back the sheet and
You saw me warm and naked in the middle of the night.

You fell on my body in the middle of the night.
You reached for my nipples and you seized a hank of hair and
You ordered me to serve you in the middle of the night.

You lay back on the bed in the middle of the night.
You lay back on the bed and I knelt between your legs and
You came into my hand in the middle of the night.

You came and shook and roared in the middle of the night.
And because this is my poem
and a poet has her fantasies,
You let me lie beside you,
I lay there warm beside you,
You stroked me with your fingers
as I lay there warm beside you,
I moaned and cried and whimpered
as I lay there warm beside you and
You let me cum beside you
in the middle of the night.

4 comments:

Paul said...

OG, perhaps one day your fantasy will come true.
Think of the poem you'll be able to write then.
Love and warm hugs,
Paul.

mamacrow said...

wow wow wow! one of your best! (imho)

I was reading this hoping all the way through it had already happened.... one day, eh!

pixiepie said...

This made me miss Richard...very pretty OG- but sad and whimsical.

oatmeal girl said...

Ah, Paul - I am trying not to dwell on what might be although obviously, sometimes, it slips out... my dreams slip out. I need to submit to reality, to accept it, to embrace it. This is submission.

Ah, mamacrow... no, it hasn't happened, and I have no expectations that it will. Still, my Master called it lovely. I don't know that he's ever before called a poem lovely... and with that i am very content.

pixiepie - I hope in missing him you were able to enjoy the memories even as you were sad.

The piece really did just jump into my head, and I had a lot of fun writing it. I think the form freed me to express desires I otherwise wouldn't feel entitled to express.

That, and the fact that this week is the anniversary of when he found me.