The Best Ever

She speaks up often calling to be cared

He was fine and sleek, now shows wear

The same feel piques the senses in the bumpy

Roads of life, and she smooths them over at times.

I can inflate the sense of worth, with a puff of air

With eyes closed, still feel the smoothness

I will dream of him between my legs, and marvel

At how happy I can feel all sweaty and tired even sore

And do it again, then rest and feed, only to tickle the urge

So freely desired.

New rubber, old hands, tight nuts, I understand

I’m asleep, awake and she is in my mind, I may

Just be walking or holding, and look forward to washing

The dirt, the sweat, the salty residue of our exertion together

Is it no wonder my bike is hung on the wall?


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