Due, the times
Arrival of a concerted friend
At the designated since, the basis of every crime
To be, a whole salvation of what ends

Keep, the times
Rue and divulgence to a rapid and just
Merit, the coping suggestion of what ides
Were, the note of atonement in fair, if not ought's must

Solemn, the times
Strange horizon's with a calling
Ably, the needs of another, shied
And true, sigh of curiosity, that has seen falling

Adage, the times
Sworn to better kind
Turns of repose, have the sense to shine
Well and could, the very order of what mind

Secret, the times
May to fore, the airing, a league with might
To know a callous sorts of claim, the history of why
We are that we are, the other side of what mercy might

Stars, the time
Worth neither whether willing nor would
Comparison needs the let, the better in a wishful lime
Tow and certainty to hold, a portrayal of hosts who could...

You've always been fully aware of what lies
Between these thighs  
You just weren't sure
If you could ever lure
Me to let you slide
Into the sweetness that they hide

Caramel or chocolate
Of late
You haven't been sure
Which one is sweeter
Than the honeycomb offered not on a plate
But hidden between my legs

The craving in your groin
Longs for a taste
You dream of my *****
Hotter than larva or fire
Burning with desire
For a deep *******
That leaves me wetter than a summer's rain

**** my sweet nectar
Be filled to the brim, my star
Remind me of my naughtiest fantasies
As you show me all your fetishes

Grab my hips
Push them up and down
Even if the rhythm is imperfect
Plunge deep, for me that's perfect

I will hold you deep inside
Your manhood I'll hide
My lips I'll bite
Because I know I might
Not be able to hold my tongue
And let a loud scream escape my lungs

As we ride blissful waves
Drowning in beautiful escapes
Forgetting our surroundings
Until we reach the land of milk and honey

Miss Fit ⚓

honeycomb lips,
swarms of bees on your tongue,
hives on your heart,
a Queen bee is your soul.

buzzing, buzzing, buzzing,

all in my ears,
now a taste of my tears,
straight after I got stung.

buzzing, buzzing, buzzing,

there she goes,
only protecting her sweet,
nectar is her love,
but I found myself allergic to bees.

buzzing, buzzing, buzzing.

It’s red and burnt and there’s nothing more beautiful.
You look like an oasis.
I feel myself melting the second I see your face.
It’s like I’m baking in this oven and there’s nothing more lovely.
You smell like all of my favorite foods with a voice like honey.
You wear my favorite color well and with every passing moment I can feel my heart swell.
I find myself aching to see you smile and to make you laugh.
I would love for you to be as fond of me as I have grown of you even if the feeling is only at half.
When the trumpets roar I feel this sense of peace and I think of the words you say so little yet they leave me building these cathedrals of utterance about you.
There lay no cracks or puddles of grease;
The glasswork is blazing and brilliant with how you attract my attention.
I would build for you a place that displays the warmth I feel that I forbear to mention.
You’re enchanting,
Something to look forward to,
And someone my heart won’t let me forget.
This impression has lasted since the day we met.

Shrouded in deep purple fear and billowing clouds of crimson shame,
I sat on the floor, a trembling moth in still air.
I swallowed. The taste of bile remained.
My warmth flowed out of my body into the icy bathroom tiles, escaping rapidly through cracks in my split-open soul.
She sat beside me, quiet, waiting.
After an eternity, I nodded to her with a shaky breath.
She helped me gently off the floor and guided me to her bed, tucking herself behind me to become my tight cocoon.
With my head rested against her chest, I heard her blood pounding through her, but her breaths were slow, controlled.
The fibers of my muscles remained tense, straining to compensate for my spirit - raw, exposed, vulnerable.
Her small, soft fingers ran through my tangled hair,
drips of golden honey appearing as she began to hum.
Her radiant honey oozed from the smooth, full notes of her voice and dripped between sharp fragments of my shattered porcelain.
The clock tutted at us from the wall, approaching the third hour of morning, but she held my shards together tenderly and unhurried.
The fight drained from me as she sang her sweet melody.
A puddle of purple and crimson beneath me. Pieces, tenderly held.
Her pure, glimmering honey meandered through my etched cracks and between my too-prominent ribs to replace my purple and crimson.
She sang the life back to me, held me together with her sturdy grace.
She waited as the liquid gold began to solidify and I began to feel closer to whole once more.
She - who loves me laughing, who loves me dancing - loves me messy, too.