Prajapathi, her navel (II)

Prajapathi, warm goddess,
On the bed forbidden to me by your
Fruitless marriage, when I
First freed you of your arresting robes
And feasted – like first man –
On the rich offer of your
Fruitful orbs of lust,

As you punctuated into my ear
Love moans unheard by the cobwebs of that room
For months and months,

As you squirmed in a feeling that you
Were battling within your own self to
Master and to let it master you,

I touched the depth of your navel
With the stab of a flickering tongue,
Hissing into its curvaceous hollow
The wetness of warm desire, roping it with
The hoovering round of my mouth,

And I felt your flesh contract,
Your breath hold high,
And I knew, Prajapathi, that you needed that touch
Which would carry a message to your depths,
For you to be released into my love.

18155785

Advertisements

Prajapathi, her navel

A perfect circle
And a geometric genius,
Deep in its hollow
For a lover’s tongue to dip in.

The right size to hold a
Marble, laid down with love,
A container for a dew drop
And a sight to make you spin.

As you spasm it shudders helpless, so lost, intoxicated,
Purdahed under your tank tops, in silence, under-rated.

melody-belly-navel-kiss-high-quality-and-size-1