Dear Boy I Masturbate to:
Remember I told you I had to write about gravity?
I just looked it up and it says that
Gravity is
the fundamental force of attraction
that all objects with mass have for each other.
Like electromagnetic forces,
gravity has an effectively infinite range
and obeys the inverse-square law.
At the atomic level,
where masses are very small,
the force of gravity is negligible,
but for objects that have very large masses
such as planets, stars, galaxies,
my heart raised to the power of your body
multiplied by my lips, your touch and
your deepening eyes.
You are feathers falling upwards in a forest fire.
I will unfold to your body's whim.
I'll move on you with the purr of old engines
placed carefully into new cars.
I want to ride you gently like that.
Your belt buckle will loosen at my smile
and I will find you with your pants as anklets
upon the ceiling.
Lay my body before yours
as land does before a bulldozer.
Flat-line my contours,
or just flat line the buzzing
between my lips and knees
or lift me into the ground
(or into your mouth)
because you think it is the sky;
(it's heaven and)
you want to teach me to fly so I'll learn
how to wade in the air.
I want to sweat-fuck your talisman,
empty your pants of all their jewels and
place them into my mouth
watch your knees give,
those bent boomerangs.
I want to be bitten and bound
throttle throated and
exhausted wet,
combust like supermarkets hurling fresh fruits and detergent
upside-down in the rain with sprinklers on.
You won't be able to shake my skin's taste
from the open-air.
May I be the face you make when you're cumming alone?
Subtle ecstasy like dogs dreaming of white bone.
I'll breathe into your inner-thigh, and
finish you quick,
so will you
drift your cock into my mouth?
I wanna be high from smoking it.
I wanna do you in your soccer cleats
until the hardwood floors
become matchsticks,
and set you ablaze.
You make my heart as nomadic as
petals lost at sea.
I sleep each night waiting for your voice,
so I can reach down
and
purify myself with the holy water of your voice
and my wetness.
So
will you harbor my screams in your mouth,
dreaming of mornings of quick cumming?
Say my name. Now say it again
and I'll cum like a crate of fragile flutes
wrapped in cellophane dropped upwards
from the 63 building.
I will do
whatever you ask.
Unless you are drunk
then I'll take advantage
and ride your face.
But I must say
I think your tongue is a flower
your mouth pronouncing my name into my skin.
In return,
my fingertips will unveil the braille of your body's bible;
miracles like (my) water (wetness) cumming from your
rock,
I've been thirsty
for you
all my life.
And yes. This gravity, the fundamental force of attraction that all objects
with mass have for each other. Your body raised to the power of
your heart multiplied by my lips,
your touch.
Yes,
I touch myself to you at night.
Yours truly,
Heather
