Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Oct 2016
Soft are the hands;
   blessed with ill-intent,
   as they touch your skin.
   they dissolve you,
   and melt your flesh.
   quivering with anticipation,
   my lips take your breath.
   climbing under your surface,
   and taking everything else.
Written by
Styles  NYC
Please log in to view and add comments on poems