Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
AM May 2015
Art
My whole body is the blank canvas
And your soft tongue is the brush
Both of us wear nothing tonight
But moans and sighs

Our racing heartbeats
Create pleasure symphony
While the heat and our sweat
Echoes like trumpets

I barely hear Mocca sings
When you breathe louder
Than their guitar strings

Yet when we stick like glue
I can listen to your skin
Screaming 'I love you'

And on your back
My claws draw
Calligraphy and tattoo
Painting 'I love you too'
Jane Halliwell Apr 2015
Swear my name
let it bleed from your lips
let your eyes take a sip
as you return your hips
to mine
I am the rhythm
You are the touch
it wouldn't take much
to make some exquisite love.
Thus I fall into the deep pit of almost-erotica.

— The End —