These Poems

....And you read these poems
to me.

You say, "listen."
Sincere and sexy,
blushing on every line.
You tell me through
beautiful words,
of pretty things.

These poems,
fall from your mouth,
those lips,
they make love to me.
Kisses every sense,
every move and thought.
You're fucking me.
Constantly.
Reading your poems.
Giving me highs.

They're all in love with you,
your poems.
And I,
I am jealous that they can
love you from
so far.
While I,
I have to sit here,
and listen.
And keep my hands
to myself.
It's painful.
Your poems,
that lay on your tongue
where I ought to be.
Making you write poems
about me.

Write me a poem.
Recite it to me.
Naked.
Bare, unmoved,
because I deserve the space
in your memory.