Interracial Erotica -
What You Are
By Christopher Reilley
Published on April 13, 2011
What you are to me, and me alone.

A love poem with smut, or a smutty love poem.

I want to dream your thoughts alive,
give them breath and watch them move.
I am a ghost that haunts your skin
tracing your nipples with my palms
feeling them wake from slumber,
stretching for life, screaming with joy.

I want to make love, gently, with tenderness
and languid melding of me into you.
I want to fuck, turgid as a beast,
as demanding of you as my hunger is of me.
I want to be still, quiet, torpid and sated,
warming myself with your reflected sunlight.

For you are more than my love, my desire,
you are that soft, small moment just before a kiss,
you are the strokes of letters filling my blank page,
words surrounding thought, surrounding emotion,
the beat and pulse of my life-force,
the quintessence that makes me into me.

Our life together, frought with both sorrow and joy,
embroidered by the blood and sweat of our desires
is so much more than one day fading into the next,
it is an origami swan, unfolding over and over,
revealing airy castles in the clouds,
built on foundations of promise and hope.