I can picture It,
In my eyes.
Your body, A canvas,
For me to Inscribe.
Writing Haiku's,
Between your thighs.
Reading your poems,
In my Sight.
I can Hear it,
In my mind.
Your stanza's secrets,
Between each sigh.
Invading your thoughts,
In spaces I find.
Hearing your moans,
Through each written disguise.
I can feel you,
Through my soul.
With every movement,
Comes new control.
Tickling me,
With each of your strokes.
Composing new words,
As you spoke.
Jan 11, 2015
Jan 11, 2015 at 1:06 AM UTC
I can picture It,
In my eyes.
Your body, A canvas,
For me to Inscribe.
Writing Haiku's,
Between your thighs.
Reading your poems,
In my Sight.
I can Hear it,
In my mind.
Your stanza's secrets,
Between each sigh.
Invading your thoughts,
In spaces I find.
Hearing your moans,
Through each written disguise.
I can feel you,
Through my soul.
With every movement,
Comes new control.
Tickling me,
With each of your strokes.
Composing new words,
As you spoke.
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