Suckled My lower lip swells gently Like a rose in bud after a summer shower I have what I need, I am ready to be opened I am opening already And inside, an invitation That can only be read by
You.
Oh, I came Here ripe and ready as the swollen summer moon. On a sweet, still moment our fates linger, waiting On a pregnant, prescient pause. Quiet, comes the Quivering storm.