Bedroom confessions

Her eyes open in unmitigated passion,
like floodgates to a gushing barrage.
Her spine tingles with thoughts of lust,
like a thirsting Bedouin for a mirage.

Her lips, at ends, curl in on themselves,
She smiles a smile openly lewd.
Her nostrils flare, her toes curl up,
In the anticipation of my touch, she drools.

She writes love poems for herself,
With me as her prize muse.
She fantasizes of great sex,
And offers herself as ruse.

My limbs edge forward, organ tugs
Against the stretched blue denim.
She, close to me, can feel it rise,
As my body betrays my pride.

She captivates me in her embrace,
Her earthy smell a neutral surprise!
To myself do I laugh as I,
The lies of scent-merchants, realize.

Her femininity commands, my masculinity cowers.
Her petite frame bosses my body, well-fed.
An aberration, an exception, a happy reversal
Of roles, age-old, exchanged in bed.

She smiles and moans in mirth as I,
Advance upon her flesh.
Upside down and downside up,
The carnal game is afoot.

Her spirit exudes what her body cannot.
Her womanhood is expressed in bodily knots.
As she gains up and I submit,
Her celebration of sex is  then perfect.