She is a restless woman,
feeling sexually unfulfilled,
hungering for touch,
the sound of heavy breathing,
the smell of a man . . .
his taste in her mouth.
Neglected in her own bed,
frustrated in her own expression,
shamed for her excess,
craving now the freedom to explore
wanting now the freedom to explode,
needing a man’s passion to set her free.
How long can she wait,
how long deny her instincts,
curb her desire,
smother that sweet fire
that burns between her thighs . . .
unattended for so long.
Today, perhaps, she will find expression,
perhaps today she will feel a hand reach out
and know she is free to touch fingertips,
to interlock fingers,
to pull the man to her breasts
and press her eager lips to his.
Today, perhaps, she will stir his desire,
and feel hers stir in response to his,
and perhaps today she will take him into her
his body, his soul, his essence
and she will feel wanted
and she will find completion
