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Styles Aug 2024
Her hips:
       a fierce gallop,
       ceaseless,
       circling,
       reigning from above—
Styles Aug 2024
She is my everything,
In her absence, solitude claws at my core.
I offer her the world, hoping to cling,
Yet she vanishes, leaving my hopes to roar.
Now here, now gone—a fleeting shadow play,
Today she's mine, tomorrow drifts astray.
Styles Aug 2024
Under a canopy of whispers, delicate and enticing,
He traced her silhouette, his touch precise and inviting.
His fingers glided in a choreography of slow, deliberate grace,
Each stroke a promise, as soft moans framed her face.

He advanced with certainty, his intent clear and bold,
Pressing where fire blooms, in whispers untold.
Exploring her every contour, each hidden cove and crest,
Her body answered in kind,
a tempestuous response confessed.
Styles Aug 2024
Her skin, a whisper of satin against my own,
goosebumps rise, a shiver, from fingers to bone.
They travel like stars in a night’s gentle climb,
up her hand,
through her spine,
a dance sublime.
Styles Aug 2024
Sitting here, yearning for her presence,
my soul aches with longing, for her essence.

In this chair—her body a silhouette in twilight,
straddling me, a vision of pure, unspoken delight.

Choker tight, a midnight ribbon of allure,
a skirt that flirts, pink lace, mixed with passion and allure.
Hair cascading like a raven's song,
bare skin exposed, where ******* belong.
Tattoos like a poem etched in black lace,
each curve a verse,
each line eye trace.
Soft kisses I place,
caressing her face,
her back arches,
her patience quakes,
watching her lips part, a slow, sensual spark,
she may lick her lips,
But, the rest is all mine.
Styles Aug 2024
The stare in her eyes
is her invitation
to my demise;
I have arrived.
Styles Aug 2024
I when I think of you
I want to put pen to paper,
And write poetry that is naughty by nature.
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