Waking to you in the crook of my arm;
the smell of us lingers in the crime scene
of our room.

This must be the place

Wigs and corsets,
empty bottles and riding crops.
Sugar and sweat,
cologne and *******.

Good morning sugar

Eyes flutter and lips part
as juices flow and bloods boil.
This wet and wordless union
knows no boundaries.

*We are one, now