Your pink silky touch makes my body go through seizures.

My veins are homeless, smothered in poverty and have been craving for soul food.

Im in a cacoon. My peace sign fingers in between my flower are working overtime,pumping and extracting the pollen of satisfaction.

It drips  all over your white sheets. An eye  of feasting awaits.

The movement of our soul connection is stoccatto. A two second breathing and rest from the uphill journey must occur.

Like a paint brush,your lips paint your intense emotions on my body. An abstract piece of art is what i reflect and look like.

You broke the cacoon.

Freed the catapillar of distruction and void.
The butterfly roams around in delight and euphoria.

My flower is embroided with your aura, little stitches of love threads  hang down my thighs.