by jane swayi’ve been forced
to squeeze my thighs together
all day long
as the nub of my delta
has been full,
throbbing,
swimming in the juices
that the remembrance of
her sultry voice
has teased to life,
coaxing the viscous liquid to flow,
steadily,
and I fear the ache
pulsing within me
will only increase
until she,
herself,
provides my release
