- Erotic Poetry
- What Panties Shall I Wear Tomorrow?
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When she inquires of me, "What shall I wear tomorrow?"
She echoes my constant thought of what she wears close to her
and how it feels on her
and how she will remove it under the fullness of my distant gaze.
When she inquires of me, "What shall I wear tomorrow?"
She's really asking "What panties shall I clothe my arousal in tomorrow?"
"What covering shall I use to caress my skin and touch me between my legs?"
"How do I present my sacred mound-hole-sheath, my cunt, that lies at my centre?"
"How do I hold myself together in the face of the shivers and thrills,
the sometime oncoming waves of light-dark fantasies and desires
the threat of wet dissolving, the leaking of my melting essence
the yearning to be naked and exposed and seen and cherished?"
When she inquires of me, "What shall I wear tomorrow?"
She's really asking to be watched, to feel warm wet breath on her skin, at her neck
to be touched, to be spread, to be opened.
When she inquires of me, "What shall I wear tomorrow?"
She's really asking for the chance to give herself up
to give herself over,
to give herself
to give.
When she inquires of me, "What shall I wear tomorrow?"
Is she really asking "Dare I risk giving more of myself?"
Does she want to ask more of me?
Is she really asking me to help her to discover who she is?
And I wonder if we already know.
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