Inspiration

You make me feel like a sticky pistil
Leaning into her stamen.
You make me feel like Mr. Sunshine himself.
You make me feel like splendor in the grass where we're rolling
Dance with me baby
You make me feel like the Amazon's running between my thighs.

You make me feel love, love, love, love, love
love, love, love, love, love
You make me feel love, love, love, love, love
love, love, love, love

You make me feel like a candy apple; red and horny
You make me feel like I want to be a dumb blonde
In a centerfold, the girl next door.
And I would open the door and I'd be all wet
With my tits soaking through this tiny little t-shirt that I'm wearing
And you would open the door and tie me up to the bed.

You make me feel love, love, love, love, love
love, love, love, love, love
You make me feel love, love, love, love, love
love, love, love, love

Lover, I don't know who I am.
Am I Barry White - am I Isis?
Oooo
Lover I'm laced with your unconscious,
I will be your Desdemona

You make me feel, ohhh
You make me feel, woowoo baby
You make me feel, ahhh
You make me feel, oh, oh, ah, ah, oh, oh...

Mistletoe can be deadly if you eat it.
A kiss can be even deadlier if you mean it.

Attraction. That instant when your attention is completely captured by another. Your eyes lock and everything else in the room is still. Muffled.
Think of every war movie you've seen where they have that one seen where the character is shell shocked. You can still see the horror of battle going on; bodies flying, bombs exploding, shrapnel catapulting through the air - chaos incarnate. But there's only that muted shush sound the ocean makes.

The seconds that expand in that instant you look at me could compose and eradicate a thousand universes. My breathing stops. My pulse races. Every muscle in my body tenses. Adrenaline burns a mainline, cranking the beat of my heart to a slamfest-escape-attempt in my chest. My jaw locks. My knees give.
Have you ever wondered why I only look at you head on when I'm sitting or leaning against something?

Sometimes I hate it. But I'm always wanting more. Burning with the need for that next look. Coiled like a spring tensing a trigger.
I want to throw caution to the wind, corner you and pounce.

I want to bite you.
Hard.

I want to fight you for dominance in a quest as thoroughly exhilarating as it is exasperating.

I want to explore you like a pioneer on a new world, with teeth as sharp as my intellect.


I want to let it slip how you can
seduce
dominate
overthrow
Me.


Beauty is not applicable to the physical appearance
Only the inspiration caused by another.