_Blossoming cheeks;_
_sweet flower kisses,_
_and butterfly hints,_
_of wings flaring careless words on lips._
_The space of heaven;_
_between those two stars,_
_of both day and night,_
_And with devilish thick_
_structured thighs;_
_there's a resting lust in between._
_None of which,_
_I dare open the gates as wide._
_Bare chest; full of development,_
_and a warmth to my resting head._
_Fast asleep on the pillows;_
_and silk smooth skin, as matching sheets._
_Bellowing down the centre;_
_to a circle within a circle._
_As with the precious silver of a belly ring._
_Dark as the night without stars;_
_flowing downstream; is her fine hair._
_Covering a neck of amber;_
_scented in perfumes of a spring's desire._
_And a shape biteable by first eyes;_
_as with the passions of a bodied pear._
_Towards a great sized past;_
_and truly a large behind._
_A middle line of strong metal,_
_as love's swordlike spine._
_Tanned leather,_
_running young of two calves._
_And the heels that strut the purest intentions;_
_of the feet of doves._
_Perfect is a stranger;_
_but still a stranger on their own._
_Never to have met,_
_perhaps of my descriptions,_
_the individual would show._
Jan 26, 2022
Jan 26, 2022 at 12:06 PM UTC
_Blossoming cheeks;_
_sweet flower kisses,_
_and butterfly hints,_
_of wings flaring careless words on lips._
_The space of heaven;_
_between those two stars,_
_of both day and night,_
_And with devilish thick_
_structured thighs;_
_there's a resting lust in between._
_None of which,_
_I dare open the gates as wide._
_Bare chest; full of development,_
_and a warmth to my resting head._
_Fast asleep on the pillows;_
_and silk smooth skin, as matching sheets._
_Bellowing down the centre;_
_to a circle within a circle._
_As with the precious silver of a belly ring._
_Dark as the night without stars;_
_flowing downstream; is her fine hair._
_Covering a neck of amber;_
_scented in perfumes of a spring's desire._
_And a shape biteable by first eyes;_
_as with the passions of a bodied pear._
_Towards a great sized past;_
_and truly a large behind._
_A middle line of strong metal,_
_as love's swordlike spine._
_Tanned leather,_
_running young of two calves._
_And the heels that strut the purest intentions;_
_of the feet of doves._
_Perfect is a stranger;_
_but still a stranger on their own._
_Never to have met,_
_perhaps of my descriptions,_
_the individual would show._
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