Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Sep 2016
To starve my lips of your existence;
would rob them of their purpose.
To join them in union,
the craving overwhelms.
Lips longing for each others;
        to speak a forbidden language
        they choreographed themselves.
Styles
Written by
Styles  NYC
(NYC)   
Please log in to view and add comments on poems