Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
May 2017
Close your eyes
do not peek at me taking a peek
under your sun dress,
to address the radiant heat
your treasure box shaved neat
lips smoother than satin sheets
fingertips massaging
you pink peaks
as I take a peek
at the high-point of your ******
our intent meets
your fingers dig deepΒ Β as you spring free
your eyes roll back and your body relax
and your eyes relapse
struggling to catching your breath
with no energy left
you collapse
in my lap
our
hands
clasped
Styles
Written by
Styles  NYC
(NYC)   
Please log in to view and add comments on poems