Mr. Associative

The first pair of balls
whose owner understands
my vaginal spitting.
When I spit lust
he licks it calmly
or spreads it in between
his chest.
He even knows how to digest
it as a fluffy dessert.
He designedly queues
when I am biting,
won't water me
when my flower gets dry.
I am a timeless Thirst
so I can as well
grow a little patience
down my valley of wilderness.
He reads me in the dark
without codes
as if I am as flat
as a freshly cut down
football field
and his name associates
with heart.
His, inside my palms,
beats louder,
harder and it won't catch
a cold that easily.
I am the mistress
of its outfalls.
Bring it to my
fiery kingdom,
l o v e,
when you decide
it's time
for plantation.