I like the feeling:
your body, my body—together,
wedded by the purple duvet
that followed you home last April
before we threw our first punches.
I want these:
your hands on me,
your tongue searching my mouth,
your whispers fondling my ear,
your chuckle falling into my heart
with every playful shoulder bite,
your moans escaping like fireworks
when my fingers draw patterns on your soft spot.
Your fragrance lingers in my room
and I bow in worship to every smell of it.
Like cologne clutched to you
so your fragrance,
years later,
still lingers.
I think of you in the shower,
when the water massages the skin underneath
that begs for relief from waiting impatiently
for you,
your touch.
I’d arch my back as I let my imaginations
paint a picture of you,
the water and my anxious fingers
jerking me from my reverie.
I’d imagine your lips in a smile
saying how the most erotic thing is me afloat in thoughts of you.
You would take me,
right here,
in your mouth,
bringing heaven to my knees.
Ugochi Okafor is a 20-year-old female who writes from Delta State, Nigeria. She likes to engage in discussions with herself—she thinks she understands better. Her works have appeared in The Kalahari Review, African Writer and in two anthologies on Brittle Paper, namely Enter Naija: A Book of Places and VLS “Valentine’s Day” Anthology. She enjoys travelling.
