You’re not my type.
But I want you.
Grasp for me now
while I still have the nerve.
Be my sinful digression.
A lusty misdeed.
Come tend to this cold fire.
Raise my temperature.
I swell to your dauntless kisses
and searing touches.
Unleash me.
Feed me.
Satisfy me.
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Oh, Tazanna. I see you.
What a sublime vision.
My mind’s eye sees your majesty.
The glorious, the superb, the marvelous,
And the million other adjectives describing your presence.
I’m there reveling in it.
Swept away but immobile.
Will you notice me?
I dive deep to know who I am.
It’s a loyal act of self-discovery and acceptance.
It’s never a bad thing.
I embrace who I am, sexually or otherwise.
I have a good opinion of myself!
I’m ok with me.
Being wanton is the opposite of humility,
just another word for immodesty.
Seems it truly is a good description of me.
I Write Her 