Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Jun 2021
Skin on skin, eye contact,
hands on hips, boiling kiss,
a taste of bliss, let's lose track,
no future in sight.
No way out of this mess,
I stick with your games,
we're cursed together
yet we're blessed.
Those hips and those thighs,
those wild, savage eyes,
it's all so bright
I might be going blind.
Ꭷ Ꮇ Ꮛ Ꮐ Ꭺ
Written by
Ꭷ Ꮇ Ꮛ Ꮐ Ꭺ  23/M/NotFoundYet
(23/M/NotFoundYet)   
125
   Johnnyqu33r and Brett
Please log in to view and add comments on poems