Sometimes it isn't what you say but how you say it.

A voice, resonate and deep.
It smolders, like oak logs
resting on red-hot embers
and it warms me.

Sweet, masterful, vocal
love entering me through
my ear. Soft bass filled
tongue licking my soul.

I ache for it. I wait
for it. Mind wet with
anticipation. Throbbing
to feel it's strokes
and trembling with each.

Please, do not stop
Press harder. Inhale my
mental flower and take
me where you want me to go.

Now, I have you
right where you want me.
Come, let me taste your
voice and rest in your
linguistic arms.