When I was thirty-six, he woke me up
from a life of feeling sexually  

irrelevant, cast aside, picked last.
He plucked me out of that writing class,
stepping away from the other hopefuls.  

We did not stay vertical all that long.
Who needs wine? Kisses and words get me drunk,  

not to mention those bright, thoughtful blue eyes.
His laugh also turned me into goo.  

Praise God! I’m no longer friend zoned.
When I was thirty-six he woke me up.  

We did not stay vertical all that long.
Living by “The Rules” never made me smile,
his solid embrace makes past pain worthwhile;  

his caress wipes away bad memories.
I’m now the star of his erotic play.