Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Oct 2013
I need to stop thinking
                     about the way you tasted when
                     I kissed you

gripping your hair
gripping your ***

tracing an outline in your pants

while I quietly moaned

up against a wall

                this ***** is making me

thirsty

and there is something
insatiable

biting it's lips

in the

dark
        dark
dark

corners
of my bed
glass can
Written by
glass can  San Francisco
(San Francisco)   
Please log in to view and add comments on poems