It is a whole different kind of sweet high
Creating on paper, in minds ... between thighs
And everything feels all the more
the one aroused, the one aroused
begging expression in others,
feeding each other, building, climbing.
almost too much.
Like ecstasy, like orgasm, rapture
In minds, between thighs ... on paper
It is like life, it is living - what living could be,
on a whole new level,
that sweet high.
It is to be one with someone.
To have him in your everything
have him be more a part of you
more into you
than you were
It is rhythm, it is music
It is love, not like love, not a love
It describes love,
Everything that could be,
How can I explain it to you?
It is like the wind
surrounding, overwhelming, teasing
Everything and nothing
whenever I need it to be so.
I am gushing, I know.
But I have loved an artist.
Once touched by that experience one finds
That between thighs, on paper ... in minds
There is no letting go.
There is no holding on.
Yes, it is like the wind
whispering intense insanity,
and feeling myself respond
Inhaling desire, exhaling ecstasy.
Loving an artist is like loving the wind
And praying it will sing for only you.