Let me breathe you in
As though electricity were oxygen
On the tips of our tongues
How easily butterflies turn to fire
Amid stolen kisses
And whispering fingertips
Singe me with your lips
Taste my whimpers
Burn me slowly
Hearts and wings aflutter
To die by your touch
Is to die alive...
M.A.P.
Jul 8, 2017
Jul 8, 2017 at 8:43 AM UTC