The starry lit clouds
shy and shinny
captured on the
nearby cherry tree branches
reflected your Apollo locks glitter
you pressed me on a barren trunk
your torso became a burning tree
trying to cool in a pond full of lava
Your tongue played rose~tit
mary magic ~on white satin hills.
My back hurt a bit, scratched,
the blouse finger blown, open.
And then. . . the real tempo started to begin. . .
Aug 23, 2015
Aug 23, 2015 at 11:12 AM UTC
The starry lit clouds
shy and shinny
captured on the
nearby cherry tree branches
reflected your Apollo locks glitter
you pressed me on a barren trunk
your torso became a burning tree
trying to cool in a pond full of lava
Your tongue played rose~tit
mary magic ~on white satin hills.
My back hurt a bit, scratched,
the blouse finger blown, open.
And then. . . the real tempo started to begin. . .
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