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amber-r-smith-dcPoems
Finger tips frolic freely, Skin to skin stimulates, Thoughts of touching, feeling your lips on mine, The warmth of your body, Like a fire in the deep winter months, Staring into your eyes Brightly shinning sensitivity Alone in my method of transportation Radio flipped on, speakers blaring, Nickleback songs take me away, On a flying rug overlooking downtown Houston, Watching, wasting… Even way up over this town, I feel you My separate spirit You’re separate spirit Above the cycling city I pull you, toward me My hands hold My breath, it blows on your ears My lips caress your neck, slow to move forward Drum roles sound in the distance, A violinist appears He begins to serenade with a sinful sonnet Softly the bow rubs each string The world, at that moment, stopped all movement Lip to Lip Arm in Arm When tiny tingles cover our bodies Fireworks explode, as if it was the 4th of july, In the middle of December. Day or night, naughty thoughts Flustered or flattered, emotions create it Regrets no more Fear no more Back down to earth, now I am, I drive you, my destiny.
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Feb 20, 2014
Feb 20, 2014 at 11:50 AM UTC
Miraculous
Finger tips frolic freely, Skin to skin stimulates, Thoughts of touching, feeling your lips on mine, The warmth of your body, Like a fire in the deep winter months, Staring into your eyes Brightly shinning sensitivity Alone in my method of transportation Radio flipped on, speakers blaring, Nickleback songs take me away, On a flying rug overlooking downtown Houston, Watching, wasting… Even way up over this town, I feel you My separate spirit You’re separate spirit Above the cycling city I pull you, toward me My hands hold My breath, it blows on your ears My lips caress your neck, slow to move forward Drum roles sound in the distance, A violinist appears He begins to serenade with a sinful sonnet Softly the bow rubs each string The world, at that moment, stopped all movement Lip to Lip Arm in Arm When tiny tingles cover our bodies Fireworks explode, as if it was the 4th of july, In the middle of December. Day or night, naughty thoughts Flustered or flattered, emotions create it Regrets no more Fear no more Back down to earth, now I am, I drive you, my destiny.
amber-r-smith-dc
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amber-r-smith-dc
Feb 20, 2014
Feb 20, 2014 at 11:50 AM UTC
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