How supple your lips
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The kind that were meant for kissing
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I remember you
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Warm and brown and how your lips invited me to dine
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Candles lit I still burn mine every night about a quarter past three
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There is a memory that lives and breathes
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And flows through my veins like a good drug
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The thought of your lips slightly parted
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Beckoning the kiss that I wished I could try out on myself
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To see if it was good enough for you
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Into the cave where lust and love become one
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You beloved meet me half way
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Filling my nights and days to such extent
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That I still quiver involuntarily
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As you snap your fingers
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And I come running
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I remember you
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You are the artful dodger
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Do you remember me
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They call me Ivory
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Ivory (A Tone Poem)
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| Teena Marie |
