Dip it, your brush,
Into my ***,
And sweep it across my mouth,
Grip it, my throat,
Squeezing your thumbs,
And slowly begin to move south,
Kiss it, my breast,
Taste with your tongue,
Savour the mound with delight,
Sup it, my ***,
Drink from the well,
Make art with me, into the night.

(C) eileenmcgreevy@ymail.com 2019