the rhythm

the rhythm is a smooth slope a lover worships with his mouth, hands and eyes as he moved his hips to mine, and commits the details to memory. Where the blues are forever marked on my thighs, like remember me? and he compares my beauty to the vast sky and shakes his head, turn his eye, and say the sky is no rival to I. so I ask for a;; the rivers, oceans, and streams, and he says they’ve been explored while mine remains only in the dreams of men, fascinated by areas no one has been. he flatters my heart, gives it will to start, while he gathers the stars above in his hands, and place them delicately upon my skin, while I’m counting the sands of my deserts, and the rhythm seduces on.

why should I bid the wind a farewell, when he wants to stay here, jealously he longs for an affair with my hair, between my fingers, and toes, and everywhere else he yearns to explore. my lover cups my cheek, with a smirk that makes me weak, and I turn into you, and the rhythm turns into the blues, and oh-baby he’s playing so well with that mouth on my erratic pulse, and down my body like an electric course, like I’m the 1st sound to the world, and oh-baby, I’d swear I’m a little girl again in his hands. and while the wind cried in agony, tongue tucked in cheek, and upon my bare breast, here the rhythm will rest. and the rhythm will sing.

and he drawls on with a rumbling baritone that seduces me down to my bones, and beyond all my physical bounds. tonight, love, I’m gonna slide on that silky dress he loves so much, wear my hair all down my back, and I’m gonna love his harsh touch, and I’ll show a smooth expanse of leg to feast his eyes and his mind, and this time. he says I’ve got a sway that can’t compare to the wind of the day, and my hips seductively roll like the sea, and he wants to just hold me and tame me and love me, but my rhythm is so beautiful to his ears. and I’m reaching for you or I just wanna make a request for some blues if you’re not seducing it with me.

the rhythm, the rhythm, the rhythm, rolls and shakes and whispers with the blues, blues, blues that rests on my thighs, and you can see the fervor in my eyes. and you got the instruments playing to my tune like we’re flying to the moon, cause it’s time for a little romancing language for my native and wild heart. one day, we’ll be famous over my valleys, and hills, and meadows, because people will remember our sounds of rhythm and blues and me and you, together as the life and love and warmth resting between us. and the rhythm goes on.