Jan 2015
You don't have to tell me you love me.
I could tell; I could sense it.
The scent of your body, calling me
To you, giving me instruction,
It speaks to me, telling me
To use you.
The echoes of your moans,
Across the room,
With every ******, growing louder,
In rhythm.
Your grip getting tighter,
Whispers in my ear,
Calling out my name
Harder.
Arching your back in pleasure
The lines, the curvature
Of your every being,
Your body is a treasure any man would fight for.
So let me search you,
Explore you,
Chart a map of you with my pen.
I'll write down everything about you,
I'll never run out of ink.
You don't have to tell me you love me.
You're already mine to love.
I could tell; I could sense it.
The scent of your body, calling me
To you, giving me instruction,
It speaks to me, telling me
To use you.
The echoes of your moans,
Across the room,
With every ******, growing louder,
In rhythm.
Your grip getting tighter,
Whispers in my ear,
Calling out my name
Harder.
Arching your back in pleasure
The lines, the curvature
Of your every being,
Your body is a treasure any man would fight for.
So let me search you,
Explore you,
Chart a map of you with my pen.
I'll write down everything about you,
I'll never run out of ink.
You don't have to tell me you love me.
You're already mine to love.
Arrrrr dat *****. The theme changed halfway through by accident haha.
