The Sword Of Passion Poem by samuel nze

The sword of passion between my thighs
Is rigid; you touch my hairy chest
And stroke my trunk
Dipping your finger in my belly-button;
The sword hardens
But you are not finished yet:
You tease, caress, please me
Head, neck, ear sucking and licking down, down
Till you mouth the sword.
I gasp; spasms and tremors; my head runs riot,
Still you are not done.
You free the sword and push me down flat
Falling astride and sheating the blade:
You sheathe, you remove
You sheathe, you remove
You sheathe, you remove
Apparently, you cannot make up your mind:
You sheathe, you remove
You sheathe, you remove
You sheathe, you remove
You cannot decide what you want,
You sheathe, you remove
You sheathe, you remove
You sheathe, you remove
Then suddenly you jerk and shout,
Dig your fingers in my skin;
Your eyes dilate and you are in shock
Clinging unto me as if for life
I am infected and I hold on to your torso
I feel something hot and fluid leave me
Then you fall flat on my belly
Tears are in your eyes and on my hairy chest
Are you sad that you could not make up your mind?