Killing Me Softly 2012 Poem

 Killing Me Softly With His Voice, Country Texas accent, As he speaks about his passion, sports is his world. He’s played basketball, I dream about his strong arms lifting me up, but has experience in football, and fantasize about him tossing me onto the bed. The track is also his friend, the stamina would come in handy with our sex, sometimes before and sometimes after the gym, and his muscles are friendly. His six pack speaks in tongues, speaking my name in different languages. I just want to kiss every inch of his nice hard abs, but I try to refrain from the temptation of touching. He’s smart though, knows what he wants in a girl and tonight he sees me in his world. The music has already started to play, Brian McKnight Ready to Learn., and I don’t know if it’s real or in my imagination.

Killing Me Softly with His Hands in the middle of nowhere our clothes are being tossed. It all started on the sofa, first my shirt came off and then his was a loss. Slowly but surely clothes have flown off until I’m left with just my heels on. He says he likes his women tall, but since I’m short he settles for medium height. So anxious, Ginuwine leads our moods, and for that reason we never make it to the bed. Instead it’s somewhere against the wall.  As he picks me up I wrap my hands around his neck, my legs around his waist.

Killing Me Softly With His Sex as I close my eyes and just feel the vibe and try not to be noisy as we fall in synch. The rhythm, our bodies, and our breathing are unique to each other as we finally find a bed and start out missionary style. By now my eyes are open curious to take in what we surround. During the act I happen to glance up and there’s our reflection bouncing back at me. Just like Soulfood it’s full of passion and yearning for more desire, as our two bodies have become one and the sex keeps getting better I dig my heels into his skin hoping the night will never end.

Killing Me Softly With His Song, Whether we’ll last is unknown, but we’re forever embedded in each other’s memory. 

I was listening to Lauryn Hill's Killing Me Softly when writing this. You could just call it my updated version.