Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Jun 2012
feels like, your mouth, i like it
little hot crushed
(wettest ember of thy face)
to mine, darling, your

hair

                     is immense

tangled briefly

with my fingers

against the excelling nub
of thy fragrant skull                dear, i

press drink and of, into

                                            my
PK Wakefield
Written by
PK Wakefield
500
   ---
Please log in to view and add comments on poems