Part 2
by Jeffrey Murrell

Round, circular blur,
Brown, crystal murmur
Shoots concentrated doses
Of visual, tingling hopes
Through the back of my skull,
Into my aching soul
As I stare into her eye
As her lips caress mine,
As we kiss with hot breath,
My body struggling against her little breasts
Pressing deep into my chest;
It's not close enough to her.

So this is how it's got to be?
The way she always has to tease!
She pulls back,
Holding my hands,
Smiling nicely,
But stingingly seriously.
"Well, kiddo! I've got an early day tomorrow!"
"So I guess that means I have to go?"
She nods sweetly,
Very kind and gently.
Then I don't really mind so much,
As long as it isn't dangerous
To our relationship,
To her companionship.
I love my little friend!
I love her eyes, her wavy brown hair,
I love her voice, her touch, her sighs,
Her skinny little hips and thighs.
And I draw her near again;
She pulls into me closely then,
Touches me with her narrow, warm lips
On the neck with gentle little nips.
Here and there, and on my face,
Making me again start to ache
To feel her closer,
To have the most of her.
But she steps back one more time
And gives a patient, little sigh.

"Am I what you're looking for?
Or is there something I can be, something more?"
"Oh, please!" She teases with a nod,
Pulling my fingers into hers so taught.
"Someone intelligent, just like you!
Someone who's a good conversationalist, too.
And you're very, very good at that!
Someone who can make me laugh,
Who can contribute to a good living standard.
Someone as handsome as you and James Dean!
Someone not too tall, with a body hard and lean.
Someone cultured, with the right chemistry . . . . "
But is that someone me?