Is It Poetry - The Vibrator

Up on the shelf it is hands snaking down.
It is pliable brown it is oiled french and soft.
It is as if you, breathing heavy last left it.
It is as clean as the rain coming down.
There it is, like no two bridges ever are.
Home work that never gets done.
Always there when you need it.
Suple it is and it's dance made up of your differant sounds.
You sleep more soundly, love is surrounded by need.
Inside the cocoon where it is, there he can never come.
Worries float lightly away, each new wave is full blown.
The thing about him always being hot and heavy
And falling asleep without any mess neatly always full.

Is It Poetry

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-vibrator/