Kisses don't last forever, lipstick scars on my collared shirt; sweet perfumes sinking into my neck. Searching for a rush, there's a rush out there looking for me.
Let me play my tongue on you; just like I love to play with my words.
Lust of rush; my eye on a crush, She's a crushing feeling; as when my cheek bones hurt every time I blush. Plush; so richly filled and lush. Could I love you as a must; But a piece of you is far too much.
Indulge in all of those senses; As my sense of appeal is to be the one who stole your heart. I'm much made of steel; heavy weighed inside of my pants. But why be quick in our advances; let's have a little romance. Pick out our cards at every chance. I'll play your King, with just few plays with my hands.
A squeeze; you feel the weakness on your knees, each time I wrap around your neck. And proceed into those long kisses that steal your breath. Bite you down like an enemy; be tender to all of those marks like a friend.
But I'd soon forget, of which of us gets naked first; before pulling the covers of the bed. I'm sitting on the edge; grinning at a striptease doing in my head.
I can't pretend, that my skins aren't hair raising; lips craving, body shaking, and I'm embracing the embrace of me driving my destination inside of your place.
But these are the thoughts on the road: of what's about to come.
the lushness of the land the ruggedness of the rocks pictures can capture everyone's view of perfection. but have you sat on a cheap beach chair, with sand in your toes and curly hair, across your sunburned face? subtly smiling at the distant crash of waves, or listening to the live music that sounds like the band "summer salt?"
lava lava beach club with cats wandering around the island just as your heart wanders around the lovely memories that you count one by one to taste their delicious ideas and finally, finally feel.
At forty-four years old you’re as graceful as a palm tree; Grapes, with their lushness, have nothing on your lush body; A thousand faces light up at the sight of your smile; Roses for smell, apples for taste, and your touch Brings warmth. The cosmic rays are dim and lifeless But the colors in your eyes are bright and alive. Your neck is like Trajan’s victory column, long, Elegant and beautiful with the carvings around it Mona Lisa is pleasing to the eyes, yet mine long For the viral grace of your ***** and mature curves; Diamonds with all their glory are not as tempting as you, with your gray, enchanting hair and laughter lines. My love is round and plump at four and forty Years old, with ******* that refuse to sag with age.
This is a sonnet i wrote for all the beautiful women ageing gracefully.
‘****** is Meat’; The Victorious Say as the Spoilings of War are tilled over in a Latrine Gore-Flowers shall overthrow and the next Eden Project is fed : a Beacon for The Lovers to uncover ....and disregard ungratfully fertile