by Erina Booker
You grew in me like some wild tropic vine,
Seeking out my sweetest, deepest places,
Extending tendrils into secrets, once were mine,
But now are captured in entwined embraces.
A questing tentacle sought its way in –
At first I hardly noticed it at all,
A tingle, then such warmly burning skin
That held me in a state of blessed enthrall.
And now with fruits and flowers bursting in me,
Exploding sweetest dew into my veins,
Nectar trickling from me uncontrollably,
While standing in this humid, orchid rain.
Infused with this complete surrendered bliss,
I part my lips to show your inner kiss.