The writer whom I’ve known for three years virtually,
Tonight I had the honor to meet him physically.
The writer’s lips felt so divine, but midnight’s rush was too unkind.
A virgin night I spent with him, most of the time I craved his skin.
A powerful kiss and that was all, another night and I may fall.
And as he stood right next to me, I felt the heat come naturally.
We are all players in fate’s old game, tonight I write of him and I bet he does the same.
The writer now has pending lines; I know my eyes are in his mind.
His words somehow attract my soul, and as I read I can’t let go.
I wish, I wish, oh! Wish come true, to be again right before you.
So we could blend like writers do, and analyze our points of view.
And let’s include the ecstasy, I write about explicitly.
If one’s intense and on the verge, what happens when two writers merge?
Oh truthful writer lay by my side, our marked desires we must collide.
“This life has meaning”; you wrote to me, I am now feeling your philosophy.
These words I wrote you’ll never see, my body says, write over me.