An old poem

I wrote this when I was still in college.

My Professor Sucks

If I could be anywhere I'd be in bed with her.
Away from this professor, and his monotone of inexperience.
Unsure, his swagger lacking lecture destroys the class' attention span
like a vicatin kills off pain.

I'd rather be just waking up with her.
Holding her delicately clothed self
and taking in the sweet warmth from her chocolate skin.
Feeling her breath and her little twitches
and awaiting our awakening so that we can be
each other's morning caffeine rush.

Afterwards, when her black like coffee hair
is draped on my pillows, and we're done living inside of us
I'll open my eyes and be back in class.
Thinking about yesterday in its majesty, and looking toward tomorrow.
And plotting my map to explore every inch of her being.