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Jun 2016
Her lips.
A poet's *******.
I crave them
In the most
Euphoric way.
I tremble from
The pink electricity
That passes
Them and my own.
A high that dizzies
My head follows,
As I crash into
Her tongue.
An art so addictive
That I must immediately
Write it down.
Romance fills my pen
As the ink remembers
Every stain
That her lips
Left on mine.
I don't do *******, nor have I ever, but I can imagine the intense cravings and high it brings as I imagine her lips.
Written by
Kerri  38/F/TN
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