The eyes sculpt out your beauty,
The tongue yearns for your sweet.
The ears cry your symphóny.
You are my mind's plead.
The heart beats to your lovely,
The nose could breath you in,
But the skin, you left lonely,
To the soul, a sin.
May 18, 2025
May 18, 2025 at 6:59 PM UTC
The eyes sculpt out your beauty,
The tongue yearns for your sweet.
The ears cry your symphóny.
You are my mind's plead.
The heart beats to your lovely,
The nose could breath you in,
But the skin, you left lonely,
To the soul, a sin.
I'm not a pervert I swear.