Not the hero of my dreams..

My mind conjured up this fine man
A cross you could say of a heathcliff clan
Joining half way a mellors in his prime
My thoughts went beserk with sensuous crimes..

The erotic be it written spoken or envisioned
Tingles my very core ,all confused and molten
The librarian smirks
I blush red and scramble
My hands clutched tight on a d h lawrence...

My sems are over
I have done exceedingly well
The tumults and the upheavals
Of sexual infidelities
I cleverly pitted against economic instabilities..
Be it a madame bovary or a lady chatterley
They make the perverse come close to divinity..

I stroll back leisurely
Thinking how i mean so less what i write
I croon in my bed
Waiting for my don juan to come by

My eyelids shut
I want some respite..
Come lift me high
My darcy..my jude..my samson of the nights...

Im lying in a forest..
Im clarissa,im in pain
All my protests are in vain
Lovelace rapes me again and again...

Im swooning deep.,
I need you in me
Rigt now possibly
My sheets are drenched
I come unto my sense
And shame overpowers me...

The next day im in deep thought
Im thinking nothing and then thinking a lot
A hand creeps up and stops at my inner thighs.
I turn a little and the librarian stares at me intense...
I part my legs and allow his invasion

Sex is fairly simple..
Attraction and a green signal...
That night i dont have feverish dreams...
Of strange demonic anti heroes
Who enthralls and conquers...

Im wrapped up in a safe cocoon
With my man who is as real as the moon
He is not the hero of my dreams
He is my reality,a man to keep
I pass off into a deep sleep
A smirking face, issuing me books is all i see..