Arm Candy For A Trophy Poem by Belle Violet

I wake up
to the scent of him.
His mouth near my neck.
My back
on his chest,
wrapped up in
his boa arms;
that, is well rested.
I like
rolling under his grip
to seek out his lips.
Most mornings
his sleepy blue eyes
can't shake their twilight.
they don't burn
quite so hot
before the sun's out.
If you want them
cobalt,
hang out 'til sundown.
I'd just like knowing
that I won
him over.
He's handsome and decent,
an intuitive lover.
He's arm candy
for a trophy;
we look good
together.
Quite frankly, I think,
he's the one that looks better.
He's so rugged and meaty
then adorably dreamy,
he makes every encounter
well worth the fervor
it makes.
It's an audible click
when his brain
and his ****
switch places.
He jerks my waist in.
That's when that body
starts coming in handy.
Spartan build,
good strength.
Muscle-filled.
Roman nose,
eager lips,
baby blues,
young hips.
I look forward
to those midnight kisses
before,

he zips his jeans slow...

My latest muse
isn't
abusive.
he's boyish
and sweet.
He thinks about me.
He
warms my shoulders
with his palms,
I'm tiny in his arms,
and he holds me
like I matter to him.
He calls.
He wants me,
but, also,
to wake up to me.
He'd waste
whole days on me,
feels like,
he were made
for me;
pheromones
and all.

Maybe someone should tell him
don't fall.