A Good Life

What is this power you hold over me?
It is as if I were not free

There is a fine line Before and After you
Onetime I was contained, now only disposed

this is a sign I am enslaved by my passion...

as I pine for you
I wonder sometimes if it is mere infatuation, obsession, or desire for procreation
Or did you cleverly instill a conditioned response in me

Before your touch I am subdued; after, I am lewd
I disrobe of my will, my inhibitions, my dress
I hold forth my breasts
I morph from a woman, to more of a beast
Or am I simply closer to Eve?

Who is this woman so wanton, so greedy for your touch
Your lips bring forth the nourishment I need, provocative as a ripe mango,
I feed from its tender flesh voluptuously, while my tongue dances to capture the last drop.

I open myself to you, like petals of a rose in full bloom, awash with morning dew
A rose eager to be caressed, and inebriate with her scent

I have the notion that this potion fuels your passion

When I am old and decrepit, my dried, wrinkly skin, only a shadow of its former splendor...
I will warm my cold nights by the fire...

to relive in the reflection of the flames...

the times we generated heat ourselves

to find I feel no regrets.

And when it’s time to part, and my eulogy is uttered, It will be said: she was a good person, she lived courageously, a good life.

.
I will laugh and shake the leaves of a tree, for in that moment I will see that I lived a good life made good when I was free, and by those precious and few moments I lived fearlessly and I was bad…

those moments when we became one.