Anticipation of your arrival got me flushed

Adolescent nervous,

Anxious of the nameless possibilities,

Tense speech cascade on deaf ears,

Dangerous territory of empty battle fields

Of hopeless promises to obey,

Please, be good.

Because I can’t guarantee that I will.

So don’t sit to close, or hug too tight,

Or stare at me with those eyes pleading for pleasure.

Because in minutes, maybe even seconds,

I’ll lose myself, in a brief fantasy

Of matted limbs perspiring to our own tempo

Shutters of long awaited satisfaction at ease.

Don’t smile, that handsome smile

Or articulate that profound twang that vibrates my frame.

Confines has been defined,

So for my sanity,

Please, I beg you, be good

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