A WOMAN HAS HER NEEDS

A woman has her needs
Though she may sit at the helm
Of serenity’s ankles
Demure and tender, succulent with
The smell of honey and lavender
Swathed in innocence and subtlety
Still underneath she is a primitive beast

Surely a woman has her needs
Be she tight lipped with tight pony tail
Tied back revealing features chiselled
By the pain of time
and life’s backbreaking experiences
There still remains a whimper within
Strong, pulsating
Needs which, like a whirlpool
Strive within her
Inside her
Breathing a life of their own
Taking her on a delirious journey
Of needing, of wanting, of desiring
Yet she holds it down within the
Base of her stomach

Yet a woman will always have her needs
sometimes, her they will verge
On the edge of insanity’s beckoning
A volcanic racecourse of
Immense fervency
The pendulum of sexual debauchery
Willing a man to touch the very base
Of her heart, willing him to wander down
To discover and suck hard on her nipples
Willing him to delve further still
To taste her juices
Which flow from a throbbing and aching
Part of her, which requires
Attention, love and the pleasurable torture
of release