nobody rocks me

in the night

when the moon

seeps deep

through the fine

of my shade

casting hungry shadows

and delightfully delicious

silhouettes

of my nude brown body

and creamy

nutmeg thighs

spread open wide

or strewn across

silky crimson sheets

that bleed

and rival for my attention

a quick rustle

or a tiny puddle

every now and then_

there is no one

to rouse, kiss, suck

or smell the honey-dew

that drips like rain

from my sweet petals

flowered by the pang

or familiar ache

of loneliness

the lack of

frequent penetration

that leads me to masturbation,

incited by my own lone

tall, black

and incredibly

merciless middle-finger

i rouse myself

in the steady of my frame

before smiling just

exhaling deep

and floating off

into a blissful, tantalizing

succulent and peaceful

sugar-coated

dream.